


The Hinterland Doctrine: Those Who Stand For Nothing Fall For Anything

by Halfpromise



Series: The Hinterland Doctrine [1]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, British Politics, Chaptered, Corruption, Cynicism, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Constipation, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Language, F/M, Humor, M/M, Multi, POV First Person, Rape/Non-con References, Rough Sex, Satire, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-10 13:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 97,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfpromise/pseuds/Halfpromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Light is a politician. What could go wrong? Part 1 of 3 parts (probably).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Climb

**Author's Note:**

> It's 'Japanese Psycho in Westminster', it's true. No, it is actually set in Japan but take everything with a pinch of salt. I like my politicians to be completely corrupt, high as kites, misogynistic, bigoted and promiscuous. Well, I imagine them to be like that and then turn the volume up to eleven. Strangely, I don't think I'm far wrong. I've based it on UK politics and government system/departments for various reasons, particularly circa 80s/90s scandals and the Leveson Inquiry, parts of which I've just ripped off shamelessly. Oh, and the actress who plays Shiori in the live action films is lovely. The Shiori in this is not her, I just wanted a Death Note name. Actually, no one is how they're supposed to be because of the POV, interpretation and various things. You'll get the idea. I'll try to weed out mistakes and such, and I'm splitting it into three parts on here just to break the word count up a bit.
> 
> I want to thank (and dedicate this fic to) some lovely people who've encouraged me and given me a lot of support for life in general - youremyqueen/freezedryedgorgeous (Jaye), Karina, Michelle, alleycrew and Tanya especially.
> 
> Reviews are love. It's a fact and I'm grateful to anyone who reads this, and if you leave any words for me then I'm doubly thankful and appreciative. I honestly don't think that I would have continued writing this if it wasn't for the people who've spent their time so unwisely by reading it, particularly those listed above. This is my first time publishing something on ao3 and it's the second thing I've ever written, so please bear that in mind if you're left wondering what the hell this is. Thanks so much.

"It's a shame. He would have loved this."

"Touta, it's his funeral."

"Yeah, but look at all the people. Hey, do you think they'll have an open bar?"

Jeevas rolls up to catch the tail-end of our conversation. He looks like he hasn't slept and is running purely on cocaine fumes. He's wearing the same suit as he did yesterday, and it's blue, which compliments his yellow tongue. A blue suit is unacceptable at a funeral, in my opinion, even when it doesn't look like it's been teflon-coated, like his does. I can't stand cheap suits. I can't stand Jeevas. The two were born for each other if only to increase my hatred.

"They better have an open bar," he says, barging in. "Then again, he always was a tight bastard. Why change in death?"

"Don't you think that this is a bit disrespectful?" I ask. It's the right thing to say and it's always left to me to say it. Jeevas shrugs lazily.

"I don't know what that word means. Hey, has anyone got any... y'know?"

"Jeevas, you're taking the piss now."

"That means that you do, you just don't want to give it to me. Aizawa wasn't the only tight bastard in the House then. Oooh, hello! Is that his daughter? She's grown, hasn't she? Won't be a sec." And off he wanders again like an malnourished orangutan on a day out.

"Is he really going to make moves on Aizawa's daughter at her father's funeral?" Touta asks me. I check my watch and sigh at the time before answering.

"You'd think not, but since it's Jeevas and he has no sense of shame or decency, he probably is."

"Where's Mikami?"

"Meeting. Some guys have all the luck. That's why I'm here. Someone had to represent our department."

"You didn't know Aizawa then?"

"No, so I feel right at home here." I look around at the people standing in groups. There are a lot from the Health Department, which isn't particularly shocking. Some of them flit from group to group, electioneering even at the funeral of their ex-Head. Touta scratches his scalp suddenly and I take a step away from him.

"I didn't know him either," he says. I'm shocked. I thought that by working in the same building Touta would at least have ingratiated himself enough to have met his boss.

"I thought that you must have known him."

"Nah. Someone told me that there was a buffet."

"Touta!"

"What? Obviously I'm paying my respects too. Second death of a Head this month, eh? If you count Higuichi and Penber, that's four in... how many months?"

"Yeah. Rotten luck."

Touta and I look as ridiculous as everyone else as we stand side by side, both staring at the scene from a slight distance like we're waiting for a train.  _Everyone_  is waiting for something to happen even though the funeral service itself is over. I haven't been to that many Christian funerals, but I make it my business to know what to expect. You would think that it would run more smoothly but people seems content enough to hover around, mocking the dead with our beating hearts. You can tell the relatives and the genuinely upset from the crowd as they look dazed with grief among the packs of the not really bothered off-duty politicians and policemen who stay in their respective little groups. The law and the law makers never mix, not in public anyway. There's a sudden bark of laughter which is followed by an ineffective attempt to cover it up with a fake cough. It comes from Jeevas, who is now in the marquee in the centre of the fray. He's talking to Aizawa's daughter, who's clutching a handkerchief which she dabs intermittently at her nose as a bored looking quartet play 'Adagio for Strings' from the side. Her father's coffin is less than a foot away. It wouldn't surprise me if Jeevas actually started leaning on it.

"You wouldn't think the Health Department would be  _that_  stressful. He'd only been in the job for a couple of months," Touta wonders aloud. He seems to be scouting the area for the food table. "Do you think that I should be worried?"

"He ate a load of shit apparently." Yes, high cholesterol has seen off many a politician in their forties. A death in the cabinet keeps everything moving. No one wants stagnation. It just makes the press work harder for stories to cover, and no one wants them digging around.

"I know that he used to go to that restaurant opposite the office every day for lunch."

"Genki's Diner? God, no wonder. I'm surprised that he didn't die sooner."

"So, does this mean that there'll be a shift around again then? We just had one for Higuchi."

"Of course there'll be another one." I check my phone. No new messages apart from one from Misa which I can't be bothered with right now. "How long do you think this will take?"

"No idea. What are we waiting for? The service is over, isn't it? Do funerals have intermissions?"

"They're waiting for the hearse to take him to the crematorium."

"Do we have to go to that?"

"No, that's just for the family. It'd be quicker if we just picked him up and carried him over there. It's like, what, a hundred yards away?" Fuck's sake, I've had enough. I haven't even been noticed. We might as well light a bonfire here for Aizawa and call it a day. No one has approached me from the Health Department, which has only made me more pissed off. What a waste of time. "Every funeral I've ever been to seems to involve a lot of standing around. I might just go. There's a bill vote at one and I could make it if I go now."

Touta looks at me. One of his eyes is a bit red and inflamed. "What about the buffet?" he asks.

"You and your buffets. It looks homemade," I tell him. "I'm not sure if I want to stay and eat the same food that probably gave the man in the coffin a massive coronary. You shouldn't either. If you died, how would I explain that to Sayu?"

"She'd probably thank you for encouraging me," he says sadly and rubs his swollen cheek.

"You two have to stop fighting."

"I'm not, she is."

"She can't fight solo."

"Look, I love your sister, Light. I really do. But she's hard work," he declares with feeling. Poor Touta wasn't prepared for my sister. The sweet girl turned into a piranha after their wedding day and she's eating him alive. I look to the ground so I can smile.

"It's a family trait, what can I say?"

"She's angry at me now because I go to work. I said: 'So what? You want me to be unemployed?' and she was like: 'You have no ambition! If you work harder and faster then maybe we'll get somewhere.' She hates the house. The house she chose! Remember?'"

"It's probably more to do with your hours than the house. Women just tend to have one issue which expands and suddenly everything is shit to them. It'll pass. Just buy her a facial or something." Touta didn't know yet that this would be a recurring problem which he'd have to live with for at least twelve hours a day for the rest of his life. Having grown up with my sister, I knew that sometimes she turns into a harpy of dissatisfaction over the slightest thing. With a weaker personality like Touta as her sounding board, he was destined for a life of misery. "Misa's the same," I offer in consolation.

"Does Misa scream and throw vases?"

"No. Well, she doesn't throw anything. She screams occasionally but that's just my cue to leave." Speaking of, I reach in my pocket for my car keys as Touta kicks a piece of turf.

"She wants a baby," he says.

"Sayu? Wow. I'm sorry, Touta."

"I told her that we can't afford one at the moment but that just made her more angry and started chopping carrots with a huge cleaver. Then she cried."

"Oh."

"That's not good, is it? Light, what if she asks for a divorce?"

"I don't think that's going to happen. I mean, when Misa started doing all that stuff, I just bought her dresses and she shut up after a while. You have to learn how to switch off. You know what you need? A home office with a lock on the door."

"Is that what happens? You live with someone and you end up locked in a room to get away from them?"

"Not necessarily. It's just for emergencies, like a bomb shelter."

"What about a kitten? Does Sayu like kittens?" he says, hopefully, like he's stumbled upon the answer to an age old problem.

"All women like kittens. I'm just not sure if she likes cats, and the kitten will become a cat at some point unless you just keep replacing it with other kittens. It's not really a baby though, is it. You could try, I suppose."

"I don't know what happened," he sighs. His face has fallen at my words and I realise that I'll never get away if I don't encourage him.

"They get comfortable and pull that card. It must be a good sign; it's called 'nesting' or something. I'm all for equality, but women are unreasonable. What's she thinking? She's too young for babies and she can't even look after herself. The least she could do is learn to cook first. I'll have a word with her."

"No! If she knows that I told you, she'll kill me!"

"Touta, please. I'm not an idiot. She needs a job and you're too nice to her. Women don't like nice all the time, so try to be nice in small doses. She's rattling around in that house and there are only so many exercise dvds she can do."

"I don't think that my wife should work."

"It'll do her good, but that's just my opinion. The thing with Sayu is that she'll run all over you if you let her, which you are. The alternative is that you could just do what she asks, but then you'll have her  _and_  a baby screaming at you. Your choice. Anyway, I've got to go."

"I'll hang around a bit longer I think," he grumbles, having accepted defeat and willing to be a prisoner of war who'll be beaten constantly until death. I clap him on the back as I walk behind him and impart some words of wisdom.

"Get her a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. It's her favourite."

"Thanks, Light!" he says, brightening up considerably. "Hey, are you going to Haruki's later?"

"Yeah. You shouldn't though," I warn him. "If your house is a war zone then you shouldn't leave it to fester. Seriously, it doesn't go away. I know that you think that she might just forget about it, but they don't work like that, they just get worse. They bring up old arguments months later."

"It's ok. I'll drop the wine off after this and meet you there."

"Nothing to do with me. See you."

"Light?"

"Yeah?"

"You've got my back, haven't you?"

"I have both your backs, but I know my sister and she's a bitch sometimes."

"Not all the time," he says with a stupid, soft smile on his face. The idiot. There's no saving him.

* * *

Haruki's is particularly empty on our polo mint of a floor. The tables are arranged around a cavernous hole in which we can view the people in the cheap seats eating from 'buy two courses get one free' menus on the ground floor. It's an amphitheatre for us on the upper circle and occasionally you can drop cigarette ash on them. Jeevas is holding court and we let him because he's an arsehole. He directs a question at me about my stance on the prison reform bill, which he thinks is wrong, but he's a prick. I catch every other word of what he says and he's lucky that I grant him that much attention. My response is succinct.

"I really wish that I cared what you think but my complete indifference prevents it."

"Yagami, I love you. You're such a bastard!" Mikami laughs as he strikes a glancing blow off my shoulder.

"He's just pissed off because he's got the inquiry tomorrow. What fun," Jeevas snorts. It's at this point that I realise that a few people from the Culture and Environment departments are a few tables away and keep glancing over. I also notice that Touta has fallen asleep.

Part of the reason we like Haruki's is because they turn a blind eye to any kind of drug use. The only unwritten rule is that the hard stuff stays in the bathrooms. Culture and Environment are smoking. I see that Mishima, who took over the void I left in Culture, is still smoking Marlboro lights. That's just pathetic. I hated Culture; it was full of the most uncultured people I've ever met and most of them are there for life. I light up a Turkish tobacco cigarette which is manufactured in Belgium. It's expensive enough to impress and necessary for placing a punctuation mark of respect in a possibly unruly crowd. I make a big deal of lighting it quite slowly, taking a deep breath with closed eyes, leaning back and blowing the smoke above my companions, because I'm nothing if not considerate. I take care to expose my neck and generally remind everyone of what their dicks are for. I must have done this well because everyone stops talking to watch me. Fuck you, Environment and Culture. And you, Jeevas. I demand attention and I take it.

Let me be clear, I do not smoke. It is dangerous both to yourself and others. A leading cause of cancer, heart and respiratory disease, cot death, infertility, puts immense pressure on the health service, is a public nuisance, is economically unsound (although the government approve of it due to the healthy injection the taxes bring to the treasury, but we don't talk about that), is a littering problem, the cause for many house fires, and affects your skin, teeth, hair and clothes. But everyone smokes occasionally for that whisper of hedonism. It's always been this way. It was one of the first subtleties I learned in the secret language of politicians. It says that I am a wild card. My loyalty and morals are for sale, so approach me with an offer, if you have one. All this may or may not be true; I appear to do one thing when I'm actually doing the opposite. My heart is the purest gold and no one can touch it, but I have to be seen to give out invitations. You should always make yourself as accessible as possible to the benefits which can come from it. There are many hidden meanings in everything we do. The choices we make must be made with consideration and care. My doctor assures me that he doesn't even think of me as a smoker.

"So what about the inquiry?" I say. "It's only for show."

Jeevas laughs again. His throat is completely shot. "You do know that Lawliet is heading it?" He leans across the table towards me. I lower my head and blow the tail-end of smoke into his gormless face.

"Yeah. And?"

"He's a rottweiler. He interviewed me for a job with his law firm once and he tore me apart. Since my résumé is pretty damn perfect, what do you think he's going to do to you? Well, I'll tell you. He will twist your testicles off and make earrings out of them. In public. So, are you looking forward to that? I am. I might even try to turn up just to see it happen."

"I've seen your résumé and it's anything but perfect. I know that you're very impressed by the master's degree your daddy bought for you, and it might look ok on paper, but obviously he met you and saw right through it. You have to make an impression in person, otherwise you're fucked if you want a  _real_  job."

"So you think that you'll do so much better?" he asks.

"Of course I will." I can't help but laugh at the idea that I won't. It's an impossibility. "I was head of the national debate team and we won the championship three years in a row. I graduated and they've lost every year since. What does that tell you?"

"It tells me that you're good at bitching but not much else. But he's as gay as a handbag full of rainbows, so he'll probably like you, Light, since you're so pretty!" He reaches forward and I dodge his pincer-like fingers which are trying to pinch at my face.

"Piss off, Jeevas," I tell him, but this only seems to calm him into an insufferable smugness as he settles back against his chair.

"How's Misa?"

"Fine."

Misa and Jeevas are having an affair. I know this because I saw him run out of my apartment and into one of the lifts with his trousers around his ankles one night when I arrived home. I'd bring it up, but the railway contract is at a critical point of negotiations and I don't need to be involved in any scandal, no matter how minor, unless I can control it. I've also fucked Jeevas' fiancee, Naomi, a few times, so to dredge up my supposed injured pride would probably bring that up as well. Everyone, including Jeevas, knows about it, since Naomi blurted it out in a drink induced wave of lunacy during a party dinner and cannot keep her fucking mouth shut. Political incest of this nature is acceptable as long as it's not blatant and no one talks about it. In politics, you can't be accused of hypocrisy, because that's tantamount to death. While no crime is certain to count you out of the benches, it could hold you up.

Jeevas has lost his interest in me and is now directing it towards some girls at the next table. One of them is from the Italian embassy across the street and is a permanent fixture here. He speaks loudly and falls forward heavily on his elbows as he curses.

"Fuck me but those Italians are good-looking. It's the clothes, man. You wouldn't look at her twice in a tracksuit. It's the  _clothes_."

He strings out the word 'clothes' out like it's a religion, which of course it is. The Italians have had their day, apart from with cunts like Jeevas. Personally, I prefer American and Japanese designers. They're both forward-thinking, with innovative combinations of fabric and cut, while remaining traditional. Wearing their clothes communicates personal loyalty, patriotism, and support for Capitalism. Some brands are not popular enough yet to make them common. It says that I'm in favour of trade between these two countries. It means that I am supportive of my own country's industry. The press don't notice men's clothes, but I was featured in the 'Best Dressed Under Thirty' article in the  _Metrosexuality_ November issue, page fifty-four. It was nearly picked up for one of the broadsheets but the Muramatsu scandal took all the press, which fucked me right off.

"That one slept with Ide last month," Mikami points the offending girl out helpfully. Jeevas scowls at the thought that he had considered taking Ide's seconds. Ide is not respected in any way by anyone.

"I want to ask her why but judging by that plonk they're drinking, I'm not surprised," Jeevas mumbles, dropping some cigarette ash on his untouched taiyaki. "So, how did the proposal go down?"

"Not well," Mikami answers. I feel like he's stabbed me with a compass. He hadn't informed me of this very important fact. "The Lady shot it down."

There follows a moment of silent reverence for The Lady.

"What about Akutagawa?"

Mikami simply shakes his head. Akutagawa is the Education minister who has been in the centre of a scandal involving a man in drag in a public toilet. His wife left him and he tried to commit suicide in the immediate aftermath, but as he is useless in all things, he failed. He recently returned to government and attempted to reassert himself with a tame education amendment proposal which obviously went down like a whore on a rich man. If The Lady is forced to publicly state to the press that she's 'fully in support of' one of her ministers, then it's the kiss of death. He'll be eased out. A graceful resignation will be expected imminently.

"He's on his way out then," Jeevas says needlessly. He refills his glass and moans. "Where is that bitch waitress? She's paid to do this. Anyway, if The Lady cancelled a meeting with him yesterday and didn't give him the go ahead to present to the House... we all know what that means."

"Yes. So, gentlemen, I suppose that we're all due for a upgrade."

Mikami lights a cigarette after speaking; a Russian brand using Balkan tobacco. Bastard. He has shares with a European football team owned by a Russian business man who has links with the mafia. I was going to punt for it but Mikami got there first by meeting him for dinner while he sent me to a community art exhibition for mouth and toe painters. I got no press.

The bastard coughs into his manicured hand and excuses himself, leaving a trail of smoke behind him, and Jeevas turns sideways to watch him leave.

"His definition is like a bag of spanners," he says. "Get thee to a gym, Mikami."

"His suit is badly tailored," I explain, and follow Mikami. No doubt, Jeevas is staring at my arse as I leave.

"Yagami?" Mikami greets me in the empty bathroom like he hasn't seen me before. "There's no fucking room in here. I'll have to use the sink. Have you got a card?"

I hand him my Amex as he pulls out a bag of incentive. "I didn't know about Akutagawa and The Lady," I say, annoyed, and it shows. He glances up at me briefly.

"No? Well it's been coming for a while. Stupid fuck fiddling with ladyboys in a fucking park toilet like we're in the fucking 60s."

"Hey, too much. I'll just have a bump," I tell him as he forms two long lines with my card. He cuts mine in half with a laugh at my restraint.

He takes first blow, bracing himself on the sink before gesturing for me to take the other line. Mikami has developed a raging habit but consoles himself by only using with others. The fact that he does this very often is of no concern to him and I encourage him while upholding a concerned gentleness. He's booked in at a discreet hospital outside Kyoto to have his septum repaired.

"Don't worry about it," he tells me. "Where I go, you come with me." I don't believe him. He's breathing rapidly now. It hits him quickly and he's like a different person. He's going to get shit done. I take his rolled up note and bend over. Within a second the line is gone and so has the feeling in the back of my throat.

"I'll support you, whatever you do," I say as I brush snow off my nose with my thumb. "We should talk campaigns soon." Akutagawa is considered as good as dead, so we must make plans. If Mikami wins his seat, I will take Mikami's in Transport. Obviously he wants to take me over to Education with him, since I do most of his job for him, but it'll be a lower position and, after all these months, it's time to branch out.

"How are you fixed tomorrow?" he asks.

"Clear after two."

"Good. Club job, I think. Three o'clock ok? I like their leather chairs. They remind me of my father's library."

I mourn the loss of the old club; the one in the House which was cut for budgets. As it turned out, the closure didn't cut the budget at all. Everyone just added club membership elsewhere to their expenses and the ill-feeling probably made them add other things on besides. Since the club closed, everyone has become a little more conceited. There may be some correlation between the two. No one was too good for the club; it was a great leveller. I also don't need Mikami blubbing with nostalgia about fucking chairs and his father's library.

"Fine," I say.

"How did the funeral go? Who was it this time? Mogi?"

"Aizawa."

"Oh yeah, Aizawa in Health? Maybe I should go for Health instead? Or both. I remember him now. He hadn't been in office long, had he? This is what happens when they bring someone in from outside. What's an ex-police chief going to know about health? No offence," he smiles. I return it.

"No, I agree with you. My dad was surprised too. Aizawa was the one who took over from him when he retired. He says that he was kicked out of there pretty quickly."

"Well look where it's got him. Dead. They always think that politics is easy. I know we harbour a lot of incompetent fucks, but at least they're incompetent fucks who work up the ladder. Which school did he go to?"

"State, I think. Then NPA."

"Ah," Mikami nodded enthusiastically, as if that fact validated how this was all doomed from the start. "I hate this bringing in of token blue collars. Just what we need, some fucking commoners - roll them in. This party is losing its edge. It's getting far too compliant to the opposition."

One of the tabloids - a popular, scummy little paper - announced its support of the opposition in the next election because apparently we don't care about the lower classes. This was quite shit for our side, because the majority of the population are of a lower class. Panic set in and attempts to rectify the situation involved bringing in working class heroes to work in prominent positions. The animosity within ranks was tangible.

"Hey, ladies," Jeevas flounces in. "What are we doing here? Am I too late?" he says, happily spying the tell-tale signs like a sniffer dog.

"We were just discussing the funeral," Mikami sighs, then he goes off to take a piss with intent.

"Oh! You should have been there, Miki, it was epic fucking shit. And golden boy here wasn't very impressed with my conduct, were you, darling."

"I'll never know what it's like to be impressed by you, Jeevas," I tell him. The coke is telling me to hit him. It would make my entire life to smash his teeth until I'm just slapping bloody matter against the marble tiles, but I fight against it.

"Now, now," he says, wagging one finger while he straightens out another rail from Mikami's bag of tricks, rubbing a healthy dose on his gums. He keeps his little fingernail long for this very purpose so that it acts as a scoop. "Did you tell him?"

"No. We weren't talking about you."

"And why not? I should be the topic of conversation at all times or I'll simply fade away, and you wouldn't want that, would you, Yagami?"

"Jeevas made a play for Aizawa's daughter," I mumble, just to shut him up.

"At the funeral?" Mikami laughs and nearly falls into the urinal. Since he married the rich daughter of an ex-politician who helped him get the position he has now, he's lived vicariously through Jeevas. Mikami hates his wife and it's mutual. He calls her 'Ratface' in an affectionate tone and hasn't yet summed up the courage to conduct affairs. Jeevas, on the other hand, is blessed with the ability to be in government without actually working, sleeps with anything with a pulse and even that's probably not a requirement, and generally behaves badly while remaining under the radar of the press and The Lady. He is actually The Lady's and the press' favourite due to his rogueish ways and revolting flattery, which The Lady responds well to. She recently took him and a few others as part of her entourage on a trip to China. Apparently his (dyed) red hair reminded her of a skiing holiday in Scotland as a teenager, so she took him under her wing and he took to Tokyo, having spent every summer in the north from the day he was born. Not long after, he used his dual-citizenship and became firmly ensconced as being one of 'The Court Ladies', as they're known. Their purpose is to remain favourites of The Lady and they aren't expected to do very much apart from to be on hand to tell her how nice she's looking. Ostensibly, his official job is something to do with foreign relations - the same 'job' his father held until ten years ago, when he lost his looks.

"You have to snatch the opportunity when one presents itself," Jeevas says snidely, tapping his nose until a puff of dust rises up. "That's how I live life. Anyone got a spliff? What is that stuff, Miki? Is it dandruff? It's doing nothing for me."

"You wouldn't know if it did. You've been wired all day."

"Ha. Yeah, that I have. It's been a good day. So, what other gossip were you bitching about in here apart from the dead guy? Has Yagami been taken up the arse by another teaboy?"

"Jeevas, I wish that you'd just come out with it instead of dancing around me. If you want to fuck me, you should just ask. And then I can say no."

"Yeah, Jeevas, cut it out. Like Yagami would have you," Mikami laughs. He does a sort of athletic lap around the bathroom until he comes back to us.

"I would sooner be assaulted by a spaniel," I add emphatically. I feel myself getting more talkative and drifting off. I want to drive a car. I want to wrap myself around a fucking lamp post. "Or a donkey. I would choose death. Death by donkey dick."

Jeevas starts droning on and all I can visualise is his face, red and twisted, plunging at Misa like he's drilling a road. The thought that he's been in my flat and in Misa within sight of my Jeff Koons and Barbara Hepworth sculptures tortures me at night. I'd chosen Misa specifically for her virginal public persona, promising career and fame. It looked like she was on her way, but that's proving not to be the case. The media interest has tailed off and she became addicted to my sedatives, which I keep on hand for moments just like this, when Mikami gets me high and I have to stay focused. I reach for a tablet from my pocket and my hands shake with the sheer rush of energy. It is very hard to stay still. So, there's not really much reason to keep Misa around now. She's just cluttering up the place and sleeping with Jeevas of all people is possibly the most despicable thing she could have done, if I'd actually given a shit. A few months ago, she attempted suicide in my apartment while I was at seminar out of town, but it was half-hearted. All she managed was to make a slight cut on her wrist and throw up on my cashmere blanket. It appeared that she'd put more effort into arranging herself artfully on the bed for my return; with rose petals, tablets (some of which were vitamins), and one of my razor blades surrounding her like some crap, grungy, Pre-Raphaelite painting based on  _Valley of the Dolls_. The reason, apparently, is that her years of bulimia have finally taken their toll and she was told that there was a low chance of her ever conceiving. She's always hated children, but when given this news she went into a spiral of indulgent self-destruction, crying for the children she'd never have and never wanted anyway. When she told me, it sealed the deal. That, and the press weren't interested. Her discharge from hospital, which I'd gone to great trouble to attend and push her wheelchair (which she didn't need, by the way), only got page ten and one column in  _The Japan Times_.

Based on my plan, I have six years left, maximum, before I must get married, and ten years before I have my first child. I must have at least two children before I'm forty, no more, as the third must be born while I'm in office. I simply  _must_  have children, otherwise what message does that give out to the public? That I don't like children and that no one should breed? Of course, if I could speed this up then it would be better. I am making progress, but not with Misa, so I'm waiting for the appropriate moment to cut her off. If chosen correctly, the time could be highly beneficial to me in more ways than one, since some public sympathy would give my profile a well-deserved boost. But then there's the problem of finding another 'possible'. Naomi was always an option before she shacked up with Jeevas. God, I fucking hate Jeevas.

I think that he's finished speaking now, but it's hard to tell. Occasionally he makes a clicking noise with his throat and then says a few meaningless words, or coughs, or laughs, and all for no apparent reason. Then I realise something. I groan loudly and rub my head wearily with all the pain of my life.

"I'll be staying late at the office tonight," I tell them. Jeevas looks particularly interested. Opportunity flashes through his mind as it does mine, only mine is at warp speed and his is of a clapped out three-wheeled car with a rusty bumper.

"Why?" Mikami asks, his eyes glazing over already. He looks depressed. The hit is passing and he's left with the dregs. That didn't last long.

"I just remembered the speech I have to write."

He looks incredibly confused by this. "That's not until next week, is it? What's it for again?" he asks as he scratches his nose. I frown. I didn't actually want to say what for in front of Jeevas, but Mikami's brain is so curdled that he probably can't remember his own name most of the time.

"The bus lane official opening," I say grumpily. There's no point disguising my embarrassment. Jeevas roars and his face becoming a platter of victory.

"Hahahaha! Bus lanes? Wow, Yagami. Wow. You're really going up in the world, aren't you."

"It's in the redevelopment area," I explain. Like that makes any difference.

"Well I never."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Mikami tells me. He's swaying now like an old tree in a lumberyard. "Bang something out on the day and cut the ribbon. The press won't be there; just a couple of plebs."

"No, I need to be prepared. I have the inquiry hearing tomorrow, railways the day after, and you never know what'll come up after that. I don't want to leave it until the last minute."

"Yeah, some other old dude might kick the bucket and you'll be required for the funeral again," Jeevas says. I ignore him with my trademark grace as I pull back my shirt cuff to look at my watch. I like how the lighting in this room makes the hairs on my arms look golden. I wonder what bulbs they use in here. I should get some for my office.

"I'll be too late to make it worth going home. I'll just end up waking Misa and... urgh. Might as well head to the office and sleep there. What do you two have planned for tomorrow?"

"Fuck all," Jeevas says eloquently. "The Lady is visiting a hospital ward for dying children or rabbits or something. I don't know, it's all the same. If I wake up in time, I'll come and see your performance at the inquiry."

"I don't know," Mikami wonders aloud. "What's on tomorrow, Yagami?"

"You have to see Himura at eleven and me at three."

"Himura? Shit. I forgot about him. Oh, it's that railway contract, isn't it? I hate trains."

"That's not very good for a Transport minister," Jeevas points out.

"Your notes are on your desk," I tell Mikami, like I've just written him a sick note for P.E. I've done his homework for him. "It shouldn't be too difficult." He actually leans forwards, unadvisedly, and looks like he's going to kiss me.

"Yagami, you're a shining star in the heavens," he says, thankfully deciding that a pat on my shoulder is the best option. "What would I do without you? Never leave me."

"Aaaaand that tells me that it's time for me to leave, I think," Jeevas says. "You sleep easy now. Do you want me to get Naomi to call Misa for you?"

"No, she'll be asleep," I reply. "It's not worth waking her. I'll call her in the morning." Which is bollocks. I know it, Jeevas knows it. My whole apartment block probably knows it. Misa is stir-crazy this time of night. She doesn't start popping pills until 3am so she can miss out daylight hours.

"Cool, cool. Ok then, boys, see you tomorrow, maybe. Good luck with Lawliet, Yagami."

Mikami and I say nothing as Jeevas scurries out the bathroom.

"What a prick," Mikami comments as the door shuts. I agree.

We make our way back to the table where Touta is still unconscious, with the crown of his head propping up a half-full wine glass. Mikami wakes him and demands that he help me drag him to the taxi rank, and then we go our separate ways. Near the office, I stop at a payphone and make an anonymous call to a gossip rag. Government aide is having an affair with his brother-in-arms' girlfriend, Misa Amane, at this very moment. She of such hits as 'Whisper Me a Butterfly' and 'My Heart is a Dungeon (For Your Love)'. Then I walk to my office and settle down on my lounger for the night.

* * *

Jeevas decided to come out of the rathole at just the right time for the story to hit the morning papers. I woke up to the sad news that I'd been cuckolded. Of course I am devastated and had a large breakfast.

"I'm sorry to hear about Misa, Light," Touta says sadly. He does look upset, poor guy. He has a CD of hers in his car which Sayu doesn't approve of or want in the house.

"Thanks." I lower my head slowly with a tired smile, a well-practiced action which inspires even the affection of strangers.

"With Jeevas too."

"Yeah," I say. Jeevas' name brings out a stricken expression on my face, just to confirm my complete and utter betrayal. "You think that you can trust your friends."

"So what's going on? Sayu's been trying to phone you."

"Misa's moving out," I explain, and we start walking through the softly-lit gallery where everyone gathers, until I find an appropriate place to stop, apparently overcome. Misa is hysterical with despair, since the pitch of her crying is more emphatic than usual. After much begging came the accusations that I'd brought it on myself by 'not being there', though I'm not sure where she thought I'd been, considering that she was living in my apartment. After a lot of wailing on her end, during which I'd set the phone on my desk while I made myself some coffee, I must have played the deceived and sad card so well that even she understood it, and she agreed to move out today. I'll send my PA round later to make sure that she hasn't done something whimsy and gothically desperate on my bed again.

"If you need anywhere to stay for a few days, you know there's always a place for you at ours," Touta says. I could get quite fond of him. He's one of the most selfless, kindest people I know. They're a rare thing anywhere, but especially in this building. It's just a shame that these attributes aren't normally accompanied with intelligence.

"Thanks, but I'll be fine. I..." I catch sight of a downtrodden-looking Jeevas. He sees me and wonders what to do. Deciding that it's a little late to hide behind a pillar, he trundles over towards me.

"Er... Hi, Yagami. Matsuda," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He's expecting a punch in the face and I'd very much like to oblige, but unfortunately that would not suit the image I wish to project.

"Jeevas," I answer coldly. He starts up his speech which increases with speed until the lie overtakes him and connects all the words into one long mess.

"Look, it's been blown out of proportion. Misa and I were just talking. I thought that I'd drop around to let her know what you were doing and she was a wreck, y'know? I was only staying to make sure that she wouldn't do something stupid again, but I should have told you. I should have called..."

I wonder whether to show pity or continue to be affronted. Pity at this point might look lofty and inspirational to others. Outrage is for lesser beings. He continues babbling as I stare at him and watch how his rubber face stretches over his bones. Touta stares at him also, looking furious. The whole lobby stares at him in his dropped from a great height state. He's obviously been chased all over Tokyo since the story broke. Nothing catches the press' imagination like old-fashioned adultery. People are drifting over slowly, sideways, as if blown by a slight breeze. I speak loudly and firmly enough so that they can hear well. I have to remind myself that I'm the injured party here, and deliberately interrupt him with a risky move which could bring up Naomi.

"It's ok, Jeevas. If this is what you and Misa want then I'm not going to stand in your way. I just want her to be happy. But I hate lies. Surely we're old enough not to go behind each other's backs? It's not fair on the party, because we really don't need this kind of press right now. I don't know, I feel like you've taken advantage of me. I considered you a friend and a colleague who I respected. How long has this been going on? Misa told me that you've been seeing each other for a while."

The thing that's different about our situations, and which keeps me on higher ground, is that he was in my apartment, which is an invasion of my privacy. If Jeevas believed that I had slept with his girlfriend and confronted me on it, then I could explain it by too much drugs and drink at parties, or deny it altogether. I never could resist someone who cries on their own, and Naomi does that a lot since Penber died. But yeah, Jeevas. I'd never been to his apartment. What Jeevas has done is considered to be theft in our job. The sex isn't the issue exactly, it's the combination of breaking into my house and entering my girlfriend which is the problem. It also suggests an element of seriousness to their affair which is unacceptable. Promiscuity is all over this place like a plague, but if any vaguely serious feelings are hinted at by conducting it in a certain place, or if the affair goes on for a prolonged period, then you will receive no sympathy from anyone in the House. Jeevas knows this. Bringing up Naomi at this point would make him despicable, desperately clinging to standard responses and a 'you slept with mine so I'll sleep with yours' argument, which is so low that I can't even imagine  _him_  stooping to that level.

"It really wasn't serious," he says instead.

"Yeah, you tell Misa that. I knew things for Misa and I were rough, but I was trying to support her and make it work. But... I can be the bigger man in this."

This smacks him right in the balls so hard I can almost hear them retreat back into their pre-pubescent station. I'm quite proud of some of the ad-hoc additions to my speech.

"Right," Jeevas chokes. "That's good of you, Yagami. But really, it was nothing."

"I disagree. To say it's nothing only goes further in showing what little respect you have for me. I'm sure that Naomi doesn't think that this is nothing. And Misa... God, Jeevas. You know how ill she's been. She's very vulnerable. Are you telling me that you've been treating her like some kind of prostitute?"

"What? No. Of course not. Not really."

"So, not only have you been having an affair behind my back, but you've taken advantage of an emotionally fragile woman? You do realise that this could end her career?"

"You've got it all wrong. The papers are running with this like it's a fucking marathon."

"If I didn't know you so well then I might believe you. I can't talk to you right now. Not here. This is work and whatever issues we have must be kept strictly outside of these walls. While we're here we must work together with some air of professionalism, no matter how difficult that is for me right now. If I'm willing to do that then I think you can make the effort too. You could at least have the decency to apologise. I hope that you've already apologised to Naomi, because she deserves better than this." I'm really getting to him and am effectively kicking him repeatedly in the stomach. He looks sick with rage. Naturally he should be able to point out the hypocrisy, but he can't, because he was caught first.

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry, Yagami," he whispers.

"For all your superiority, you're just an idiot, aren't you?" I say. He doesn't reply. "Well?"

"I've done a stupid thing"

"No shit."

"Can't you sort things out with Misa?"

"Are you joking?"

"Oh. Well, as long as we're ok. Hey, do you need help preparing for Lawliet? Let me know. I have some stuff on him which might make him be easy on you if you get to him before the inquiry."

"I don't think I need any more of your 'help,' Jeevas. You're the same person who offered to help me by letting my girlfriend know that I'd be late, and it involved you doing I don't even want to know what to her in my apartment. I'm going to have to get the place sterilised. New bed, carpets, everything. I pray that you kept off the work surfaces. God, my Wegner table!"

"I'm not sure how else I can apologise. And you'd be grateful for my help with Lawliet. You'll find out."

"I think I can handle one little lawyer. I've been to law school too," I say with pride, because Jeevas hasn't. "I know how they operate."

"If you say so. Well, let me know. I'd like to be able to put this behind us."

"You mean that you want me to be seen to publicly forgive you? Oh yeah, I'm sure that The Lady isn't too pleased with you."

"She won't take my calls," he admits.

"Not surprising, really."

"I fucked up."

"Yeah, you did. But I hope that you can learn from this. I'm willing to put this behind us for the good of the party, because we don't need another split. Besides, this is embarrassing enough for me."

"Right. So, erm... Haruki's later? I'll get the bill."

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"Yagami, I need your help.  _Please_."

"Tomorrow. I don't have time for you now."

* * *

My inquiry is me in front of a wall of lawyers and a few select politicians.  _Wicked Games_  is on a loop in my head from the taxi radio. I hate it when that happens. After the meeting is officially opened, a man stands up - a bit of a mess with slicked back black hair. He has the easy arrogance of a lawyer who is actually good at his job and doesn't need to put too much effort into his appearance for his abilities to be known, because he's more than aware of them. He's legendary, according to Wikipedia, but I got bored half-way through the article. He must be Lawliet then.

"Thank you for your time in helping us with our questions this morning," he starts politely. Oh, this'll be piss easy. I nod in reply and he continues with the standard introductions to the board while I pour myself a glass of water. 'I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you. I never dreamed that I'd know somebody like you. No, I don't want to fall in love. No, I -' Oh shut the fuck up, Issak. Get a grip.

"Yagami-san, do you know Italian?" Lawliet asks me.

"No. Unless seeing  _The Godfather_  counts _._ "

I wanted to start on a humorous note. Both to see how seriously the panel are taking this inquest by their response, and to gain the unconscious support of the people behind me. Lawliet's face is as blank as a piece of paper.

"I'm afraid that your DVD collection won't help you," he says. "There is a phrase:  _Cu è surdu, orbu e taci, campa cent'anni 'mpaci._ He who is deaf, blind, and silent will live a hundred years in peace. Would it be fair to say that the plot in which you are accused of being involved in could be described as a corrupt coalition held together by secrecy to pursue financial gain and political power with no regard for the law by intimidating, manipulating and using criminal tactics to further your ambitions?"

God. I don't think he took a breath during that whole thing.

"I wasn't involved in any plot with Higuichi," I sigh. "I hardly knew the man. He was in a different department and we didn't socialise."

"Really? It's amazing to me how you were apparently unaware that you were involved in a criminal operation."

The audience laughs. He got a bigger laugh than I did. So that's how it is.

"I repeat, I didn't know Higuichi and whatever schemes that he may or may not have been involved in. I don't need to remind you that the police investigation is ongoing, so what you're saying is slanderous."

"I'm well aware of that, but we're conducting this inquiry on the presumption that he was guilty beyond a reasonable doubt."

"You can't do that."

"I am doing it. The evidence that he was disreputable is overwhelming, but, lucky for him, he's dead, so he won't be indicted. Let's not be silly about this, shall we? Now, let's go back to your knowledge of mafia-centric film culture. There is also a code of conduct that it is considered contemptible for an injured party to betray the name of his assailant, because if he recovers, he is expected to take revenge himself. Are you an injured party, Yagami-san? Did you make the anonymous phone call which exposed the syndicate? Is this your vengeance?"

"No. Absolutely not. If you'd allow it, I can relate all that I know of Higuichi." I reach into my folder.

"You have a prepared statement?" Lawliet asks, turning towards the rest of the panel. "First one this week," he says, at which they all nod, as surprised as he is. Why? Does that make me look guilty because I'm prepared? He waves his hand towards a blond man who rushes forward to take my papers. "You may submit it for review, but as it looks quite lengthy and I plan to take my lunch in an hour, I respectfully request that you give a brief summary at this moment in time."

"I knew nothing of Higuichi until it was on the news. Then all I can tell you is that emergency discussions took place in the House directly after, but I'm sure that you have the transcript."

"We have it. Would you say that this hastily arranged meeting was an attempt for some members to cover their backs?"

"Of course not.'

"I thought that you'd say that. So, you say that you had no connection with Higuichi, save for being a fellow representative?"

"Yes."

"And your accounts don't suggest otherwise?"

"No." I have a bank account in Switzerland and drip-feed money in small amounts through Misa's accounts, thankfully. They can't be traced back to me. "My expenses claim was considerably less than average. I could have my secretary send you the figures."

"That won't be necessary. I happen to have them here." Bastard.

"Well, then you can see for yourself.

"Yes, quite restrained in comparison to your superior, Mikami-san, but only _just_  within the accepted limit for someone of your standing. Yagami-san, would you consider yourself a reliable, useful idiot, and that is the only reason that you're tolerated within the government?"

"You expect me to answer that?"

"I would find it very entertaining to hear you try to deny it, but no, I'll withdraw that redundant question. What is clear, is that there is a vicious political coup which has been discovered and may not have been at all if it were not for the death of Higuichi and the anonymous phone call which betrayed everyone involved. When looking at the facts and you search for the culprit, you look for those who had the most to gain, which is Mikami-san and yourself. When was the last time that you saw Higuichi?"

"The New Year celebrations. The night he died."

"You were at a same party which Higuichi attended at Mikami-san's house, is that correct?"

I feel paralysed. I sip the water, and the ice clinks, my hand slips from the condensation on the side of the glass. I was with Naomi at that party. The place descended into a bit of a communal orgy in separate rooms after the fireworks. Jeevas was with Mikami's secretary. I wasn't the only one, but someone might have blabbed. "Yes."

"That was the last known sighting. What time did you see him?"

"I left sometime around two in the morning."

"Who were you with?"

"No one."

"No significant other?"

"No."

"You're in a relationship with Misa Amane, are you not?"

"I was at the time, but I don't know what that has to do with the investigation. Unless you're more interested in my private life than you are in your case."

"Ha! I'm sure that your private life is very interesting to you, but unfortunately I don't share that fascination. I only wish to know if there is anyone who could corroborate the story in your statement to the committee."

"If you read my police statement, you'll know that I included a list of people who can attest to events."

"Oh, I read that statement. It's very flowery and with excellent grammar. At times I felt like I was reading an early Edgar Allan Poe story. Did you see Higuichi leave?"

"No. I had no dealings with him, so I wasn't keeping an eye on what he did."

"So, what you're saying is that you have nothing to say? You know nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing."

"I can't tell you things that I don't know for certain. There were rumours in the House, but it's not my job to try and validate them; it's yours."

"That much of what you say is true. As you're aware, Higuichi was involved in a car accident after leaving that party. His death  _was_  very beneficial to you, would you agree?"

"I'm offended at the insinuation that I purposefully gained from the tragic death of one of my colleagues."

"Come now, this is informal. We're not in court, Yagami-san. I'm only pointing out how your superior, Mikami-san, took over Higuichi's position as Head of Transport after his death, and that you, by association, became his second in command. Quite a leap from your previous position."

"I was voted in."

"Indeed. Is it true that you always aspired for Transport? Do you strive for great things?"

"I aspire for nothing apart from to do the best for my country. I'm grateful for the opportunity to work in the position I hold now, but I did not actively seek it, nor do I revel in the circumstances which allowed it to come to pass."

I try to look hurt and insulted, and his reaction is to tilt his head to one side as he stares at me, which makes me want to mirror the action to keep up proper eye contact.

"Why do you think that you've been called to give evidence, Yagami-san?" he asks after a few moments.

"For the committee to get the broadest view of events surrounding Higuichi and his death."

"And you don't consider yourself in danger of being implicated in any way?"

"When you have done nothing wrong, you should fear nothing. I would suggest that it's cheap to attempt to make me a scapecoat. The facts are that I had no relationship with Higuichi, no involvement in corruption and no reason to benefit from his death, unless you want to accuse everyone whose position changed in the unavoidable reshuffle. It's disgusting of you to imply that I was in any way pleased about his death or had any involvement in it. The police investigation found that it was an accident and that he had been drinking. I don't see how I fit into any of this."

"It's for the committee to decide how you fit in, Yagami-san, not you. Do you believe that we should take your statements as facts without question?"

"No, but I resent your tone, your manner of questioning, your implications, and find your behaviour today to be revolting and unprofessional."

I draw gasps from the crowd. It's a good moment.

"I apologise if I've offended you," Lawliet replies with a smile. "I can see that you're very sensitive."

"Anyone would find your manner to be offensive."

"Oh dear. Well, Yagami-san, I propose that we end my revolting, unprofessional questioning for the day so the board can review your statement. If we require your assistance again, would you be willing to appear?"

"Of course. I only want to help the investigation in any way I can."

"That's very generous of you."

* * *

I'm furious and feel like I have a parasite under my skin moving, itching. I walk briskly to my office and attempt to calm myself. I watch the Japan News Network. This makes me valid.

Just as I'm about call Mikami and tell him what happened and warn him of what to expect, my secretary calls me.

"Lawliet-san is here. He wants to see you."

I consider my options quickly and take a gulp of water. What could he want? "I'm busy," I say. That should do it.

"He said that he's willing to wait."

Ok.

"Fine, send him in." My jacket is on the back of the chair. Perhaps it would be better if I was wearing it, but this is my office and I should be casual. I jump up from the lounger and rush to my desk just as the door opens. I make a point of not standing when he comes in. He's wearing a long black mohair coat which I hate him for owning. Double-breasted, classic fit. I think it's Burberry. Prorsum line.

"Yagami-san," he greets me with cheerful suspicion and a slight bow, closing the door behind him. "Thank you for finding yourself to be not as busy as you'd originally thought."

"Mr Lawliet. Please, take a seat." He's half way there as I say it and has taken this room on as his own. Suddenly I feel like I'm the one in front of the desk in _his_  office, not the other way around.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here," he says. "I wish to apologise if you found my questioning today to be particularly harsh. It wasn't, it's simply my style. If anything, I was kind to you."

"I haven't thought about it since," I mutter impassively. He looks at me briefly as he stands again to remove his coat, which he drapes over his lap after sitting back down like a lounge lizard, one leg bobbing slowly, crossed over the other.

"I've read through your statement. I don't see any reason why you should be called back."

"Right. It's very considerate of you to tell me so quickly, but there was no need to come to my office."

"No. That's true." He's looking around the room and lazily points to my large Ogata Gekko print behind me. Number one of the Sino-Japanese War triptychs. "Nice picture," he says blandly. Of course it fucking is.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" I sigh.

"Just some of your time is enough at present."

"I'm not sure what else I can tell you to help with the investigation. I've told you everything I know, you have my statement to the police as well as my statement for the inquiry, and nothing has changed since then."

"No more of the inquiry," he breathes out and strokes some dirt from his coat onto my carpet. "The conclusion was decided upon a long time ago. I wanted to see you for other reasons."

"If it's not particularly important, could we arrange a meeting for another time? I have work to do this afternoon."

"I won't keep you long. I'm very sorry for bringing up your relationship with Misa Amane this morning. I hadn't had time to read the tabloids and wasn't aware of your break up. I presume that you  _have_  ended it. I wanted to pass on my sincerest condolences and apologise for bringing up a difficult subject in the inquiry. It must have been very painful to you. Humiliating, even."

I lean back to put some distance between us because the desk isn't doing a good enough job. "What was difficult is that it had absolutely no relevance to the case," I tell him. He grins and further relaxes into his chair.

"Oh, but it did. I wanted to establish that you went to that party alone. If you had gone with Misa Amane then I could have called her in for her testimony. I'm surprised that you spent New Year apart. It must have been awful to find your girlfriend in bed with one of your party brothers. Who was it again who did the wicked deed?"

I take exception at his upbeat humour at my expense, but can't show that he has any effect on me apart from boring me stupid. "Jeevas. He's -"

"One of The Lady's boys, I know him. Friend of yours?"

"Not particularly. I only know him through work."

"Strange. I thought that I saw you with him at Haruki's yesterday."

I can't help but feel that there's something of the night about his reasons for being here now, I just don't know what it is. It's obvious that he still suspects me and thinks that everything I say is false, although his manner is one of someone who is entertained by knowing something that no one else does. I decide to confront him with an accusation from his own book, matching his humour.

"You saw me at Haruki's? Were you spying on me?" I laugh.

"Of course not, you self-obsessed imbecile," he says slowly with a lazy smile and half-lidded eyes. "I went there for their chocolate fondant, just like everyone else. I noticed you, there's a difference. Like I noticed you at Aizawa's funeral."

"You were there too?"

"Again, I wasn't following you around, but if it makes you feel special, then you think that. I was attending the funeral. You know how we on this professional peninsula move in such small but sprawling circles. Aizawa-san provided me with some off the record information for a case I was working on a few years ago when he was in the NPA, that's all. I knew your father before him, by the way. He was very unhelpful. Please pass on my regards."

"You know a lot of people."

"I hate to socialise, but sometimes it's unavoidable since the world is so crowded. What were you doing in the bathroom with two men for such a long time?"

"We were just talking."

"Oh, what a shame. My imagination ran away with me. Don't be shy, you were talking about Akutagawa's impending ejection from the world of politics without a parachute, weren't you?"

"Mikami's going to run for his seat. Would you like a glass of water?" I stand and walk to the drinks cabinet without waiting for an answer and choose Perrier for him. It's the best. Formal. I pour myself a glass and wish that it was saki. While I'm doing that, I put a brief call in to my secretary to check on my apartment. Hopefully there won't be any dead girls there. As I walk back to my seat, Lawliet's eyes follow me. I hand him his water, which he takes, but doesn't drink it.

"You drink a lot of water," he comments. "I noticed at the hearing. Normally that's a sign of nervousness. Or a bladder infection."

"It's neither."

"Good, because I would hate to be the cause of either of those things. So, yes. Poor Akutagawa. Along with the recent deaths in the cabinet, there should be quite a reshuffle."

"Yes. It's unfortunate," I nod. "It's not like we need more instability right now."

"You're suffering a lot of personal instability too. You look good on it though. Stress must suit you." He looks at me like a dog staring at his owner's steak. Oh, I get it. I brush my hand through my hair as I exhale.

"I'm surprised. I feel like death," I offer with a self-conscious tone.

"You don't look like it."

"That's something at least. But I suppose that appearances can be deceiving."

"I've often found that to be the case with interesting things. If you scratch the surface, you find something completely different and surprising. Sometimes you have to do more than scratch," he says. I had no idea that this would turn a little philosophical, but it's also quite nice to have someone to speak to who isn't completely transparent. Everything is layered. His expressions go against his words and I find several interpretations for what he says, and most of them are pure filth.

"Everyone and everything hold some secrets," I say with the wisdom of kings. "I suppose if they're worth investigating then there must be something interesting on the surface, otherwise you wouldn't pay any attention to them in the first place."

"I find  _you_  quite interesting, Yagami-kun. If everyone and everything holds secrets, then that goes completely against what you said at the hearing. You said definitively that you had no secrets. Are you a set apart from the rest of us mere mortals?"

"At the hearing, I was referring to Higuichi. I wasn't involved in some web of secrecy."

"But you know who was," he says, leaning forward. I smile at the expectation he has for me to just cave in and tell him everything I know. I like his face. I can't call it yet on whether he's a complete dickhead or not.

"How should I know? I thought you said that I'm just a useful idiot."

"Yes, I did say that, didn't I. I was obviously mistaken."

"I know no more than any hack journalist. Of course people in the House have suspicions, but it's coloured by personal vendettas and dislikes. I try to keep an open mind and not be influenced by those factors. So no, I have no time for speculation. I just want this whole thing over with."

"It will be soon. Thankfully, the media are being kept out of this; in no small part because of the news moguls' involvement with Higuichi."

"You say that like you accept corruption as a fact of life."

"It is. Only a fool would think otherwise," he states and picks up my letter opener, pressing the tip against his finger to test the sharpness. "Don't disappoint me and tell me that you're a naïve innocent with dreams of a better world?"

"That kind of cynicism is something I'd expect from someone twice your age."

"If you think you can clean up this corrupt little powerhouse then I'm afraid that you're not very well suited to a life in politics. Others have tried and failed before you. Oddly, most of them end up killing themselves."

"It's my hope that one day it can eradicated. If you start with politics, the rest will follow. There is always the power to change what is rotten. It just needs a pure person to..."

"Sacrifice themself?" he finishes for me, putting the knife back down on the desk. "So you  _are_  ambitious. I did wonder. You don't seem as depressed by the breakdown of your relationship as I would expect. Didn't you just find out this morning?"

"Yes. Maybe it hasn't really hit me yet. I've been very busy lately, and then there was the inquiry this morning. But yeah, it wasn't working out, anyway. To be honest, she wasn't really my type," I drop the bombshell as delicately as I can before I drain my glass. Yes, I can be bought and sold. When I look back at him, he's smiling, and what I took for suspicion looks like he just had a yen for me after all. When will I ever give my gut instinct the trust it deserves? I'm not saying I will or I won't, but it's good to keep my options open, and he seems interesting enough to have around and ease the boredom on rainy days. I cough into my closed fist before I continue. "The press have been bothering me all morning." It all weighs heavy on me, kind of. And I never asked for any of it. Not officially, anyway.

"Press is never a bad thing if you play it properly," he tells me.

"You speak from experience?"

"I do. Not for myself, but for the people I've represented. The last thing I need is public attention. Maybe I should have used this as my opening line of attack in seducing you when I came in - because, yes, that's why I'm here. I know how much you politicians love influence with the press. You see, I own the press. You've scored big time, Yagami-kun. I've helped most of the editors out of some potentially damaging infringement accusations, and they owe me privacy and favours in return." He must have seen the realisation on my face as he stands and walks around the desk to get to me. I must be more careful with him. He kneels before me as I turn in my chair to face him. "Ah, do you like me just that little bit more? Are we friends now?" he asks. I try not to bite my bottom lip.

"My name is Light."

"I know."

"I know that you know. I'm giving you permission to use my first name."

"I'm honoured. So, Light, will you give me permission to take your mind off your heartbreak?"

"Maybe." Yes, I'll fuck him here. I have to meet Mikami at three, but I could postpone. I might not have to.

"I'll be in the Arcadia Room at eight. I'll take one of your business cards, if that's ok?" he says, standing unexpectedly, taking a card from my card holder on the desk and starts entering my number into his phone contacts as he leaves. He didn't look like the wine and dine type, but whatever. He puts on his coat. I'm not disappointed, I just realise how unused I am to people not taking up opportunities.

* * *

Mikami swirls the whisky around the ice in his glass as he relaxes in his beloved leather chair. We're sitting opposite each other and there's a fire burning in the grate even though it's not cold. It's like being on an Edwardian cruise liner in first class.

"Health or Education..." he muses as he watches the amber liquid roll around.

"Put yourself forward for both," I say. "I know a few people in Education who'll support you. Some will probably do it for free."

"Hmmm. I'm not sure if I'm ready for Education."

"That's not the kind of mentality you should have."

"I don't mean that I'm not  _ready_  ready, I mean that there's a lot of visiting schools and talking to teachers and children involved, isn't there? I hate all those things."

"You hate Transport too but you've done ok. You don't like hospitals and sick people either, so Health will bring the same problems."

"Urgh, they're so similar. Didn't Aizawa get eggs thrown at him when he visited a hospital once? People get so angry about these things."

"Yes, but he was useless. At least it's not Work and Pensions with people moaning about how foreigners are taking all the jobs."

"Well, I'd agree with that, you see. Unofficially, of course."

"Of course."

"I just don't care about hospitals or schools and I'll have to look like I do. That's exhausting on a daily basis. I wish that Defence was an option. That would be a piece of piss and probably involves looking at tanks and things. Yeah, I'd like to review the troops. All that saluting."

"Health is a good one to get under your belt," I suggest. I don't really care where he goes, I just want Transport for myself. I've kept some ideas in reserve so that I can make an impression as soon as I get in.

"Oh, Yagami, I don't know. I think I'll just go for both, like you say. Leave it in the hands of Fate. Yeah, I'll make it known that I'm open to both and make sure that The Lady hears about it."

"Fine. I'll start drafting up some plans and tell the Chief Whip."

"You're stellar. You'd make someone a wonderful wife."

"Er... thanks. I think."

"No, really. I thought so the first time we met when you sewed that button back onto my jacket before my first speech. Always prepared. I thought then, he's the one. It was like love at first sight, really, but for a deputy. Every great man needs a sidekick, you know what I mean. Remember Culture? Those were the good old days. No one gave a shit about Culture because it looks after itself."

As he talks, I check my phone. There are practically thousands of missed calls from my entire family, Misa, and what I suspect to be journalists, since I don't recognise the numbers. They can all fuck off. Oooh, Lawliet has sent me text message with a photo attached. I laugh unexpectedly when I see it. It catches me off guard, otherwise I wouldn't have allowed myself to laugh.

"What's funny?" Mikami asks me, leaning forwards.

"Nothing. How's Shiori, by the way?" Mentioning his wife makes him screw up his face but at least it distracts him.

"Disgusting," he says, flinging himself back into his chair like he's just been shot by a sniper. "But it's ok. We've split the house into two halves. Sometimes we can go for days without seeing each other. Actually, that's something. Could you look into how divorce factors in for politicians in regards to the top job? Opinion polls and stuff like that."

"You've only just married her," I point out.

"In theory, I suppose that I could get it annulled," he considers, staring up at the ceiling. "Look into that too. What do you think the opinion on annulment is these days?"

"I think that people will presume that you can't get it up or that you're homosexual."

"Oh, shit. Well, neither of those things are true, obviously."

"Obviously."

"I'd only do it if people won't think that I'm... you know... incapable or a fag. I'm just holding out until her father dies. His liver's fucked. The bitch will get half the house but since her father paid for it, it doesn't matter much. I'll go out with more than I came in with, it's just the ramifications it might have; public opinions and so on."

"You mean that you haven't consummated the marriage? And you didn't even sleep with her before?"

"No. God, no. I know it goes against all my beliefs of trying before you buy, but really I was buying her father's influence, so it wasn't a major concern at the time. I thought about just manning up and going primal but there wasn't enough whisky in the world when it came down to it. Well, there was, but it just made me pass out, and we've stayed away from each other since then. In a way, it's a good thing. Can you imagine the alimony if we had children? Urgh, imagine the children! They'd be such ugly little bastards."

"She's not unattractive."

"You think that, but it's all makeup and good lighting. I could get past that, it's when she talks that's the problem. She collects these figurine things too; the house is full of them. The place looks like a gnome garden. I'm sorry, Yagami. I haven't asked how you are about the Misa and Jeevas thing. We are in a bad way, aren't we? I can't get rid of my horrible wife and your girlfriend jumps Jeevas. Hey, do you think Jeevas might sleep with Shiori? I'd have grounds for adultery then! No, that's too much to hope for. Have you punched him yet?"

"Actually, we're kind of ok about it. He spoke to me this morning."

"You mean you don't mind?"

"Not enough to make an enemy of him. He's buying me dinner at Haruki's tomorrow."

"You could see him out if you played it right."

"Yeah, but he has his uses. He did me a favour, really."

"I suppose. Misa did seem... temperamental. And she did that talking about herself in the third person thing. I never understood that. How did you stand it?"

"She was pretty."

"Yes, she was now you come to mention it. Jeevas. Are you going to have a blood test? He's probably crawling with STDs."

"I don't need to worry about that. Apparently they've only be at it for a month or so and I haven't been near Misa since just before her trip to A&E."

"Really? God, Yagami, how do you cope? I'm dying here. I feel like my dick is going to drop off from boredom. Your will power is an awesome thing."

"I wouldn't say that."

"Oh, just not with Misa... I get you. Clever boy. You must tell me all about it sometime. So, you're back on the singles market. Don't worry. I'm sure there's a lovely girl out there for you."

"I'm not bothered about it right now. I'm just looking forward to getting my apartment back."

"So she's moving out, eh?"

"By tonight, hopefully."

"You have to get married in a few years though. Bearing in mind the finding, dating, and engagement, that doesn't leave you  _that_  much time. You can't really get away with a mailorder bride, I looked into it. The people expect a bona fide love affair and old-fashioned courtship shit."

"I don't want a mailorder bride."

"I know," Mikami says, downing a shot of whisky. "We all want love, Yagami, but it's as rare as a unicorn. Hey, cheer up. It could be worse. What about the inquiry?"

"It was interesting."

"I have it all to look forward to. Is this Lawliet bastard really so bad? Fucking foreigners."

"He's tricky, but as long as your story's straight, he's fine."

* * *

The Arcadia Room is a shithole. I've decided. I give them another six months before they close. Lawliet is opposite me, my view of his face partially obscured by a candle which I blow out and put on another table. I wish that we could skip the formalities and getting to know you bollocks.

"What's it like being in politics, Light-kun?" he asks, moving his food around the plate like it's on a racetrack.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Too familiar?"

"Too childish and patronising. And in answer to your question, politics is a worthwhile occupation. I feel honoured to be given the responsibility, as voted for by my constituents, to represent them in the political arena. To be able to improve things for the population."

"Very admirable statement. And what is it  _really_  like?"

I stab a salad leaf with my fork. "What is it like being an interfering bastard?" I ask in return.

"Much the same to how you must find politics, Light."

I want to say: 'Are you bored by it all too? Let's go back to your place and have sex on the kitchen table.' But I don't. I imagine that it will be like jumping between planets. It wouldn't be my first time, but I have to gauge this one correctly. It's more important.

"When does the inquiry end again?" I ask, changing the conversation. The sooner this is done with, the better. They don't even have a decent white wine here, never mind my I-Block Fumé Blanc.

"Early next week," he answers. "I'm spreading myself too thin at the moment. The Lady has given me work which deserves more of my attention than I'm willing to give."

"You've met The Lady?"

"Don't tell me that you haven't?"

"Once." It was at one of Takada's charity fundraising dinners. The Lady was in a little draped, enclosed area in the garden surrounded by fairy lights, making her look like a one-woman Nativity. The pearls of her necklace were as large a ping pong balls and you could suffocate on them. I kissed her hand and she smiled.

"I'm surprised that she didn't make you one of her boys," he laughs momentarily before frowning at his plate and pushing it aside. He doesn't eat his bourguignon. I am judging him on this.

"That wouldn't really be very good for my career," I explain. "I want to make my way in politics, not be eyecandy for The Lady. Look at Jeevas. Not that he has any hopes of bettering himself or making a difference, thank God, but he'd never get anywhere from the position he's in now. Everyone knows that he's just there for decoration and there's no respect for him."

"When I first saw you at the funeral, I thought you'd be the same. Yet another of The Lady's beautiful court jesters. It surprises me when I'm wrong."

"I'm glad that I obliged."

"You haven't obliged me with anything yet. This dinner doesn't count."

"You're a fast worker but I'm faster. We could have skipped this shit, you know? There's no need for dinner and candlelight at our age. And, y'know, neither of us is wearing a dress."

"I wanted to speak with you," he says thoughtfully, following it up with a more cheerful: "And get you out of your clothes, but that goes without saying."

"We could have done both of those things at your place."

"No, I'd like to understand you."

Something about his personality has changed. He's much more softly spoken and pure sounding, which worries me. The dreamy quality of his voice makes me feel pensive and angry, so I reach forward suddenly and pour myself another glass of wine.

"I don't want to be understood. To be understood would make me dead."


	2. The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Disclaimer of sorts - I make up and say loads of rubbish, like that isn't obvious. This government is on another planet and everyone loves 70s Dodge Challengers. Light's just mad as.

"Yagami!" Jeevas shouts from across the road. "Wait, will ya?"

It will appear to him, by the way that I fail to stop, that I have been stricken with sudden and acute deafness. I'm not prepared to run from him, as that would look ridiculous. My suit has been freshly dry cleaned and I look like I've been pressed into it, whereas he looks homeless. People might think that he's trying to mug me. So, sadly, he catches up with me.

"I have to get to my office," I tell him as I continue to walk with purpose. I am an android. Jeevas deserves no humanity. No, I'm not in a good mood this morning. No morning should start with Jeevas unless you're driving a school bus and you run him over.

" _Fantastico_. Whatever. I was just wondering if you're going to Miki's tomorrow night."

"And?"

"And... is Naomi going?"

"I have no idea, Jeevas."

"She knows about it. Miki made Shiori invite her. "

"Are you asking me if I'm taking her?"

"She wouldn't be seen dead with you," he hisses.

"Is that right?" I smile as I sign in at the lobby. "Oh. Well, I'm sure I'll slit my wrists over that later."

I bound up steps two at a time. I go to the gym. It's very important for moments like this. Jeevas' co-ordination is so fucked that he struggles to take one step at a time. Along with other reasons, this is because he doesn't go to the gym. He considers sex with strangers to be a good enough work-out in itself, and relies on drugs to keep him thin as a rake. This may work for him now, but in a few years he'll just be considered scrawny, not elegantly wasted. Infuriated by being so magnificently outpaced, he tries to make me cry instead.

"You're a jumped up little shit, you know that?" he shouts behind me, desperately trying to keep up. "Just because you're Head of Transport, or the Brum Brum Department as you probably know it. Are you making a speech about the choo choos today, Yagami? You're such a good little soldier for your mummy."

He's referring to the fact that I'm the youngest Transport minister for decades. The youngest before me was only promoted because everyone else was busy being shot at during the war and he had a club foot. People indoors know what I must have gone through to get here. I might be young but, by God, I'm a hard worker. They respect me even more for my determination, and so they should.

I turn quickly, which catches him by surprise and he nearly topples down the stairs.

"Jeevas, what car do you drive?" I ask.

"What?" he exclaims. His face is twisted with confusion, hatred, and the concept of imminent defeat. "A '70s Dodge Challenger. You know that."

"An American make, and an inefficient old rust bucket if I remember rightly. That's not very supportive of our country's car industry, is it? We make the most reliable cars in the world. We're leaders in technology and car design, but then, you wouldn't know that. Do you know what I drive? A Lexus. A premium vehicle subsidiary of Toyota and one of our many success stories in terms of global trade. Do you know which model? A LF-CC full hybrid coupé with a 2.5 litre engine and emissions below 100g CO2 per kilometre. One of the first off the production line, not officially for sale. If you sold every organ in your body, you still couldn't hope to buy one. I have a prototype from the CEO. That's my brum brum. Now fuck off."

Hitting Jeevas with my superiority and leaving him speechless on the stairs makes all this worth it in itself. There's no good or bad way of becoming head of a department, you just get here using whatever methods you can, legally or otherwise. Anything seems possible, but you need the combination of attributes which I happen to have. It's been seven months since Aizawa's funeral. There is no before. I was born at the graveside when Mikami effectively got Health as soon as that man died. It's been six months since I was made Head of Transport. In the time that I've been in this position, I used all my reserve ideas which were too good to be wasted on Mikami, and rushed them through. It's not often that someone makes such an impact on a department in so short a time, since I've effectively revolutionised the entire Transport system, and for the better, which is even rarer. This has made me very popular in the House, as they know a good idea when it slaps them in the face, and they'll approve if it won't cost too much or save money. Also, what I've done has made me very popular with the press, and because of that, I'm very popular with the public. The press tell people what to think, and they should think that I've improved public transport, sustained economic growth, improved productivity and efficiency, confronted environmental performance obligations, strengthened safety and security, and enhanced access for all. But I have made a special, concerted effort to aid the most disadvantaged people who rely upon the sector which I am responsible for. All this I have done, well under budget. I am generous with my time within office hours, and speak with the ordinary man and woman on the street. I am the people's politician. Editorialising is a wonderful thing.

As I reach the office, my PA stands and tries to tell me what I already know. Mihael, Lawliet's PA, is sitting in the little waiting area near her desk. I ignore them both and open the door to my office to find Lawliet lying on my lounger like he's sunbathing, apparently unaware that he's indoors and that it's October. I shut the door and he troubles himself to open his eyes.

"You shouldn't be here," I tell him. I do not approve of his disregard for the conventions of professionals who have affairs in the workplace.

"And hello to you too. I was just passing by. No, that's not true. I moonlight as a health and safety standards official and I've come to make sure that you're wearing clean underwear today."

I dump my briefcase on my desk as a premise to my rant. I don't really expect him to take any notice of what I have to say, since he generally doesn't, but as he's in my office, I feel that I have some rights.

"You have to stop doing this. My PA knowing that you turn up at all hours is one thing, but leaving Mihael outside in full view for everyone in the department to see is just fucking unacceptable."

"Yes, good old Keehl," Lawliet sighs dreamily. "I like having a male PA. They don't speak as much as women or take as anywhere near as much time off because they're 'ill' or because their uterus is upsetting them. Keehl reminds me of a boy I had once in my third year of university, only without the the tea stains on his tie."

"God, you speak a lot, don't you? It's eight in the morning."

"No, you're not a morning person. I noticed using my powerful skills of deduction. Is this why you keep disappearing in the middle of the night?"

"I sleep better alone. We've been over this."

"Maybe you could do the sex thing on your own as well and then you needn't be bothered by anyone at all," he says, closing his eyes again.

"Lawliet, I don't have time for all this hilarity. I have a public appearance to prepare for."

"I hadn't forgotten. And you have to start calling me L, please. How many times do I have to ask you?"

"No. I told you, it makes you sound like a wannabe rapper."

"It doesn't. I earned that nickname at Oxford. You don't see many rappers going to Oxford." This is true, I suppose. In any case, I don't really care and don't have time to argue about it right now.

My new office is nearly three times as large as my last one and has a fitted wardrobe, a bathroom, an adjoining conference room and a mystery room which doesn't seem to have a purpose, but it's become quite useful for hiding Lawliet in if someone else turns up. I'm quietly pleased with it. I sit behind my desk and buzz my PA to ask her for two coffees.

"Have her get one for Mihael too," Lawliet demands.

"No, there's an instant coffee machine out there for any stray PA. We get ground coffee. Now, just what do you want exactly? Get on with it and then piss off."

"I want you on that desk in fifteen seconds. Be accommodating."

"Don't get any ideas. A car is picking me up soon and I'm not making a public speech looking like I've been pulled through a hedge. Besides, do you really think that this is appropriate? There's a portrait of The Lady over there," I tell him, pointing towards it. She stares out at us with something between passive longing and asexuality written within the lines of her face. Her and her pearls and quaffed to death hair. Lawliet rolls his eyes at her.

"She'd love to oversee our progress," he assures me. "And no, this is very _in_ appropriate, but that's never stopped me before. What's the speech this time then?"

"Nothing. I just need to prepare. These are work hours and we can't be seen together or it could look like favouritism."

"That's exactly what it is."

He walks over to me and holds his hand out for something. I'm not sure what for, so I give him my speech, hoping that he'll be content with that. He takes it and talks as he reads.

"You're everyone's favourite, Light. That's what happening, or haven't you noticed? You haven't exactly discouraged it." He obviously feels some pride of responsibility for this fact, and the resentment in the pit of my stomach rises up my gullet like bile. I shuffle some papers.

"I'm not the favourite of the right people yet," I tell him.

"Oh. I'm slightly offended," he says, looking up from my speech and towards the wall as he considers the feeling. "I think that deserves a round of applause."

"I mean that I need to at least get in with Watari. I need to get in The Lady's orbit."

Watari is the Cabinet Secretary and a close friend of The Lady. He's ancient and a yes man, which is probably why she keeps him around. Nevertheless, he wields immense power in his own right. Getting to him, or Takada, would be like getting through the Pearly Gates with a VIP ticket.

"You want to get in The Lady's orbit?" Lawliet repeats. "Is that a euphemism concerning our dear Lady? While I agree with your plan, Light, it's very much longterm and you're trying to rush like a bull in a china shop. People at the top don't like ambitious little things like you trying to barge into the sacred circle. It takes time, there's a certain etiquette, and you're too used to the ways of the lower echelons. When you get in with the top it's because you're someone that they actually like or because they trust you, rarely both. You need some training before you can suggest that you could be either of those things to them, so leave the timing to me? There's a love."

"Hmmm... I suppose." He notices how begrudgingly I concede.

"You go and commit professional suicide then," he says. "Buy them all a hamper and some bottles of whisky and see how far it takes you."

"I need an opportunity," I confess wistfully. Lawliet's been very useful, it's true, but I don't want him dragging this out for longer than necessary and underestimating me. Ten minutes of conversation with Watari and Takada is all I need. They'll never want me to leave their side again.

"And it'll happen," he assures me. "If you move now then you'll ruin your chances. You don't know how these things work like I do."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I bow to your greater knowledge or whatever." I glance at him to find him smiling with entertainment. What a complete cunt. Looking back down quickly, I cough into my palm and grumble, "I saw you at the opera, by the way."

"Did you?!" he says with effeminate, squealing excitement. Lately, one of his favourite things is to do impressions of Misa, who he briefly spoke to on my iPhone a few weeks ago when I was in the shower. I've had my number changed since then. "Oh, Light! I saw you but we didn't see each other at the same time! Our eyes could have met across the crowded room. Stirring music, Valkyries bombing the stage... it would have been beautiful." He loses interest quickly and reverts back to his normal tone after clearing his throat. "As it happened, the opera was shit, wasn't it."

"Yes. Why didn't you come over?" I ask, slapping my laptop because it's taking so long to boot the fuck up.

"Because it would have ended in tragedy. I thought that you just said that we shouldn't be seen to show any kind of favouritism? Since I never trouble myself to meet and greet people, I don't see why I should start with you. Why does it always have to be me who 'comes over' when we happen to be in the same place at the same time? You never 'come over' because you're trying to protect yourself from losing face and don't give a shit about my reputation. Making me look like a crazy pervert chasing you around like you're some poor young nymph."

"I do give a shit about your reputation. It wouldn't help me if it went tits up, would it? It's just easier for you. You're always alone. Practically alone anyway. Mihael doesn't count."

"You really think that I'm stupid, don't you? I know you," he tells me as he sits on my desk. The nerve of him. "If I make all the effort, it's nothing to do with you because you're on the receiving end... so to speak. You're not pretty enough or rich enough for me to follow you around like a lovesick idiot."

"You're here now, so there must be something going for me. Nobody cares about what you do, anyway. You're just a lawyer."

"I assure you that they do care. Despite being 'just a lawyer', I've actually been told by someone that chasing you is a lost cause. I wish they'd told me months ago."

"Who said that?" I ask. Fuckers. I'll murder them.

"Mikami. Your BFF with unusual taste in knitwear. Cardigans slung over his shoulders... pfff. I'm sure that he thinks he's in a film from the 1980s. Having said that, he's very fond of you, I think. He'd still sacrifice you to advance his career though, so don't get misty-eyed."

Oh, just Mikami. Our friendship has been strained since the last reshuffle, but it's improving. He was devastated when I ran for Head of Transport instead of blindly following him as his deputy wherever he went. When I put myself forward, his face was the definition of betrayal and loss. He'd actually have to work for a change. Having accepted that I was officially competition, he promised that he would still support me as his friend. Unfortunately, his promises are much like his head; hollow and empty. But in terms of this instance of idiocy, I suspect that there's more to it. Mikami isn't the most intuitive person in the world. It's not that he's not capable of it, it's just that he's too self-absorbed to waste his time thinking about other people.

"And why would he think that you were chasing me?"

"He was completely stoned when I spoke to him," Lawliet explains. "Based on that alone, I don't think that he was the best choice for Health. He actually walked up to me in the toilet and said: 'You know that Yagami's not a queer, right?' Obviously I was shocked at this revelation. I was taking a piss at the time too. It was one of those surreal situations you find yourself in in life sometimes. I told him I thought that you were pansexual, in the broadest sense of the word, and would sleep with a cabbage if it asked you nicely."

I grip my hair in frustration before realising that I must not disturb it before the speech, so just settle for a comforting stroke of the back of my head. "God, Mikami. Why can't he just keep his big bastard Swiss cheese nose out of it?"

"Don't worry, because, as I say, he was stoned. Also, I'm well aware that I can't speak to any men without it being construed as a sexual overture by someone. I'm used to this kind of thing and it's funny. Do you know that I'm the only openly homosexual man in the building? All the men are terrified of me, like I'm going to snap one day and go on a buggering rampage, though a few of them are setting up home in the closet and probably wouldn't mind if I did. And we thought that there was progress. I don't know what you are. I suppose you go with whoever has the most to offer you at any one time and, wooo, it looks like it's me at the moment. Lucky me. Anyway, you can't imagine how tempting it was to tell him about what I'd been doing to you a few hours beforehand, but I have to think of your reputation now," he says, his voice racked with regret. He walks back to lie on the lounger again, holding my speech above his face as he reads it

"Who's in the closet?" I can't resist asking.

"You want me to betray my orientation brothers?" He laughs and considers it for a second, "Ok. I had Ukita a few times. Poor nicotine-stained Ukita. Obviously Akutagawa is out of the closet now, out of the cabinet, and probably throwing himself out of a window as we speak."

"Ukita? Wow. Ew. Were you drunk?" I never did like Ukita.

"No. I was a man in a new town who succumbed to intense flattery. He was in awe of me. There are others."

"Tell me," I demand, but then remember what I'm supposed to be doing and how Lawliet shouldn't be here at all. "Not now though. You have to go. Goodbye."

"No I don't," he says defiantly. "God, this speech of yours is awful. Blah blah blah standardised complimentary to the party make The Lady proud blah blah 'the legacy we inherited from the previous government can still be felt today, but this government has pledged to make transport more efficient and better value for money, which will be vital if service levels are to be maintained in a climate of public spending restraint,' praise be blah.' You're never going to get any press with this shit."

"Press is not my concern. I have enough press."

There's a timid knock on the door which knocks us into silence before it opens and our coffees are brought in with a bland smile. As soon as the delivery is complete and the door shuts again, Lawliet answers me.

"You can never have enough press, you cretin. If you think that that little statement you hacked out without my consent in favour of a cut in fuel taxes will help you in any way, then you're mistaken. The government will take no notice. All you'll do is make yourself a poster boy for the lobbying groups, and no one wants that. Not those dreadlocked people who camp outside of oil refineries singing kum-ba-fucking-yah and waving hand-painted placards of peace signs."

"I don't need your consent when releasing a statement! Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" I say, calming myself down so quickly that I surprise myself. "I've been reliably informed that it was one of my better statements."

"You tell me that whenever you write a release, and whoever's telling you that they're good statements is lying. I'd hate to see your bad ones. And you need some help with this speech. Give me a pen."

"I'm not going to take any notice of what you write. I hope that you know that," I tell him as I throw him a pen. It doesn't matter. I've committed the speech to memory for that air of heartfelt spontaneity and to enable eye contact, which is very important. Also, my hands must be free to gesticulate to emphasise my sincerity. "Speaking of, shouldn't you be getting some murderer off the hook in court right now or something?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. I've joined your glorious cabinet as a legal advisor to The Lady. I'm soon to be Head of Press Relations" he says while scribbling on my speech. "My partners at the firm will be getting murderers off the hook for me when I'm not available."

"When did this happen?"

"Unofficially, two months ago. Officially, tomorrow."

"How? Why? When you say 'legal', do you mean 'spin'? Is it to do with you heading the Higuichi inquiry?"

"Oh, that. Inquiry in inverted commas. The Lady only wanted me to put the fear of God into some of you boys and girls. My office will be across the hall, by the way, by my request. It's a nice building, there's a car park opposite, and you're here, which cuts out a lot of commuting. And thanks for your overwhelming congratulatory effusions," he sulks. Obviously he thinks that I should be overjoyed by this new situation.

"Of course. Congratulations. I'm just surprised."

"I've been paid to do the same role unofficially, more or less, for two years. It's hardly surprising. But she offered me the job two months ago, so... "

"I didn't know."

"Why should you? You're just some satellite to give the party an attractive, youthful face, keep up the numbers, and make boring speeches about whatever this speech is about. To be honest, I'm completely lost. It could be a menu for a bistro for all I can tell."

I decide to change my shirt for a Yohji Yamamato one, not that anyone will have half a brain cell to notice. The glory of my overflow wardrobe as I open it strikes me with the sterile scent of newness and chemicals. The plastic covered clothes hang from the rail like carcasses in an abattoir. Oh, Lawliet's still here, isn't he? I should say something.

"Some of us work our way up. We can't all just drift in."

He points at me with the pen. "That's your problem right there. Your ambition is limited by conformity. You've done very well to win a seat at your age, but you need to take some risks once in a while, Light-kun."

"I told you not to call me that. It's patronising."

"And by coincidence, so is this speech. I'm afraid that even I'm not able to salvage it. If you're a good boy, I'll write you a new one."

"I don't need your help, you pompous bastard. Go now. I have to prepare."

"Listen here, I like you and I don't know why, but part of it is because you say things like that. At first I thought you were just stupid, and you are, because you don't seem to realise how much I've helped you, but I now know that it's mostly because you're full of yourself and you really  _aren't_  scared of me. So, I will put up with you talking to me like that, but only for so long. Don't make me think that I'm wasting my time with you, Light," he says. His voice is harsh and cold but I smile at his warning.

"You're not. Good things come to those who wait."

"Strange. Your father said something similar when I tried to get access to the police files I wanted all that time ago. He didn't know what to do with me, unlike you. He wouldn't disclose some restricted files to me until they were officially released, so I had to take out a court injunction, which was very annoying. Safe to say that we did not part as friends. How unfortunate then that it was just before his retirement. Did he fall or was he pushed? We should invite him to dinner one night and I'll rip your pants off after coffee. Fuck with me and I'll fuck your son."

"He retired with honours, actually," I tell him. "There's a portrait of him in the lobby of the NPA headquarters now."

"Retired? Is that what he told you?"

"No, I know it to be a fact," I say, buttoning up my shirt. It's a beautiful thing. "What are you insinuating?"

"Absolutely nothing. So, now that Ukita has moved on to a better place, I suppose that we should discuss your plans for yet another reshuffle."

Yes, unfortunately the deaths show no sign of easing off, but then, in such a large establishment, deaths are to be expected. It's just more newsworthy when Heads die. Ukita was Head of Education. I say 'was', because two days ago, Ukita had a stroke, probably aggravated by years of smoking, and there will be another reshuffle in his wake. A bill has been passed to allow the process to move more quickly due to the unprecedented epidemic. It's worrying really. It could strike any of us and I struggle to keep up with it. Rumours in the more ridiculous, outlandish papers are calling it 'The Curse of the Heads', which I think sounds like an Agatha Christie novel. As Mikami is making little impact in Health, he hopes to take Ukita's empty seat. Recently, we've rekindled our collaboration-dressed-up-as-friendship as I offered my support in his campaign, whatever he chooses to do.

"My plans? I suppose that I should put myself forward for Mikami's seat in Health if he gets Education," I shrug. It's the natural conclusion. Mikami set a precedent with moving from Transport to Health, and I must follow. Any less would be humiliating.

"Ah, the slow rise to power," Lawliet sighs.

"You're the one making it slow. If you'd just introduce me to Watari and Takada then it would cut out all this bollocks."

"It wouldn't. You have to climb the ladder yourself to a certain point first, but you really are taking it slowly though, aren't you? This is why you occasionally get frustrated and want to launch in and make friends with the top brass. You don't need to do that yet, but you should aim a bit higher in terms of roles. I would suggest that you do. You know how actions speak louder than words, or make people more willing to take notice, anyway."

"You think that I should aim for Education?" The thought had occurred to me, but it's one of those things that I can't be vocal about. I can only muse about them in the cell of my mind.

"Why not? You're not worried about the 'curse', are you?"

"No," I laugh. "Well, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a bit concerned that it may point to some kind of autoimmune disease which is spreading throughout the House, but I still have some grip on reality and I take a high dose of vitamins. Still, Transport is a very, very respectable seat for someone my age, but Education would be completely unheard of. I only left the education system myself a few years ago, so it's very unlikely that I'd win against Mikami... but I suppose that I could try. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Worst scenario is that you'd stay exactly where you are and Mikami will hate you for a few weeks. It wouldn't seem egotistical, not after what you've done in Transport; it would just suggest a confidence in your abilities and a willingness to step up to bat," he says, confirming what I think. "And if you weren't voted in, it would be no reflection on you, it would be purely due to your age. And such is the unfairness of life. Why not take advantage of all these tragic circumstances?"

"It's not a case of taking advantage. That's morally reprehensible."

"Oh, Light. There you go again. Cut the inanity with me, please, and say it how it is. I see no reason why you shouldn't stand a good chance. You've been well suited for Transport. After all, you own a car. You've done well, and you're clever, so Education would be easy for you. I bet that you have a little plan in that lovely little brain of yours. Secretary of State for Transport, Health, Education, Treasury, Top."

"You left out Foreign. That's very important," I say, amending his list.

"Oh, of course. The Foreign Office would be perfect for you," he smiles into the now decimated pages of my speech. "You should be aiming for Education now, to time it right. Skip Health, if you can; it brings nothing but trouble and the best you can hope for is to keep the status quo on the budget. Education, on the other hand, has more possibilities and chance of making some noticeable improvements quickly."

I look at my watch and then lean back in my chair to appear to consider his idea. "Compete against Mikami?" I ask. Not particularly to Lawliet, but for his benefit.

"Why not? You should be more impulsive and spare no one. You could do it. If played properly, The Lady could be kicked out before the end of her term. She's been around too long and people are tired of seeing her. They'll want someone completely different for leader; someone young, male, with progressive ideas and a lack of jewellery," he pauses and lifts his head to look at me. "Fortune favours the brave, Light," he says tenderly. Fuck. Sometimes he says the simplest things and makes them sound pornographic. I glance at my watch again. No. No can do.

"To win, you have to plan before you attack," I say before sighing at the heartrending complications of going into battle with a friend. "Besides, I couldn't do that to Mikami."

"Oh, Mikami, Mikami," breathes out with irritation. "He'd trample on you without a second thought if it was the other way around. Sometimes I think that you're too good for this world, Light. Your ideals are too lofty and well-meaning. You shouldn't be considerate in politics. Haven't you learned that yet?"

"I was under the impression that we're here to serve the public and do what's right. How can we accomplish that if everyone's corrupt?" My tone becomes deeper with the weight of my resolution. "No, if anyone can do this and do it right, it's me. I'm the only one who can do this."

And my eyes flicker over Lawliet's face as he gazes at me, his own eyes suddenly soft and heavy. He exhales slowly and drops my speech on his lap.

"My  _God_ , you're attractive when you're righteous and arrogant," he says.

"Thank you for noticing. Why all the sudden interest in my career advancement plans though? You haven't really shown any interest in anything besides my attractiveness since we met."

"There's where you're wrong. I'm interested in you, full stop. You see, while I have no particular aspirations in politics or care about the good of this or any other country, I like a challenge. I see one in making you all that you could be."

"Because I need your help?" I laugh at the cockiness of his statement, stand, and walk lazily towards him. "In contrast, you're particularly unattractive when you're righteous and arrogant."

"Now you know that's not true," he replies. "Are you someone who can't accept the offer of help? You're wrong to dismiss me. I can make or break careers and lives. You should take advantage of my ideas and influence."

I lean down so my face is just a little way away from his. "I should take advantage of you?" I ask softly. His breath hitches.

"Or that. You should always do that," he tells me. I smile indulgently before quickly pulling away and walking back to my desk.

"I'd love to," I say, "but I only have ten minutes until my car arrives."

"Cocktease is the word which springs to mind with you, Light."

"You could always meet me at my apartment later," I tell him, while reaching for one of my so-personal-I-haven't-given-one-to-anyone-yet contact cards.

" _Your_  apartment?" he gasps comically. "I thought that it was out of bounds? I don't even know where it is." It's true. Seven months and he hasn't even seen my 'erotic' netsuke collection. It's hilarious.

I walk back to him and hold out my card between two fingers. He takes it, unsurprisingly. "That's my address. I'm on the fifth floor. Don't draw attention to yourself."

"The scene of the crime," he says. He means my latest skirmish with Misa, who managed to flirt her way into my building and, when finding that I'd had the locks changed, went apeshit trying to get into my apartment. She was arrested and released on bail. I didn't press charges, though I had to have my apartment door sanded and re-polished. I sent the invoice to the landlord. "This may seem like a stupid question," he continues, "but are you really not upset that your ex-girlfriend has gone completely insane?"

"I tried, but it just doesn't seem to come naturally," I sigh. No, it doesn't. Mostly because I always suspected her to be just one ambulance trip away from a straitjacket.

"She sounds like a full-time job and sings so badly. Suicide attempts all over your bed as well."

"You know about that?"

"I told you, I know everything. It's my business. I still wonder who informed the press about her and Jeevas."

"It might have been Mikami. I haven't mentioned it and he hasn't either, but he probably suspected something," I tell him.

Lawliet continues to question me in a passive way by making it look like small talk. He doesn't think that it was Mikami who blabbed to the press, I can tell. You can take the man from the courtroom but you can't take the courtroom from the man. He uses this tactic to find out exactly what he wants to know without you noticing. It probably works with most people.

"When I saw him the other night, he was being propped up by someone. I seem to remember him being in a similar state the night before the story broke."

"The man propping him up would have been Touta. He's my brother-in-law. You've met him, he's a civil servant in Health. Nothing special."

"Ah, I remember. He looked equally worse for wear. I'm sure that your father's thrilled. You looked brilliant as ever, I remember it like it was yesterday. But would you ever allow yourself to be anything less? Mikami didn't look like he was in the position to call for a taxi though, never mind the press, on either night."

"Whoever did it, I'm grateful," I say, I put my jacket on and check my tie in the mirror. "Call round after six. That'll give me time for the press call."

He laughs and picks up his own jacket, which he slings over one arm. The irritating, lanky shit.

"You think that there'll be a press call after this horrible little speech?" he asks. "Are you wearing  _that_?"

"No, I was going to put on a tracksuit. What is wrong with you?" I pull back the lapel of my jacket and walk over to show him the detailing. "Look at the stitching on this thing. Look at it."

"I'm not sure what I'm looking at, but yes."

"This is an expensive, hand-finished suit. You should learn about them because they're very important. I'm frustrated by how you take no interest in these things."

"I'm very frustrated also. I'm not used to not getting what I came for, but I'll leave you to it. Sorry about your speech but I couldn't get excited about trains, planes, and automobiles that I don't own. It's below both of us. If you let me, I could get you out of here and into Education with no competition. Do your best!" he calls over on his way to the door.

"Lawliet, what do you mean?"

"L," he corrects me.

"L, then."

He stands with one hand on the door handle, tantalising with fortune. "Well, Light, I have the power to help you, and I know that's why you honour me with your time and affection, but please listen to what I say. Your press coverage has been severely lacking. Non-existent, really. There's being in the paper because you've been nice to some old lady or held someone's baby or because of some speech which no one is interested in, and then there's proper press, which you do not have. So, we'll have to do something about that. Pro bono, of course. Money-wise, anyway. You couldn't afford me otherwise."

"And nothing in return?" I ask.

"Nothing you're not giving me for free at the moment, anyway. But there is something that you could do."

"What?"

"Rumours. Gossip. Anything with a shred of truth. Whatever you have, give it to me. Anything you think is interesting and could be blown into a scandal."

Oh. Well, that's fine, he can have that. I'm all for bringing down these bastards around me, but for some reason he looks like he's gearing himself up for me to revolt against this suggestion, and I can't disappoint him.

"I'm not sure that I want to work with you if you're going to use me to damage the government," I state with some sadness and just a whisper of hurt. My pitch is perfect.

"Nothing like that," he says, shaking his head. "Do you think I want to bring down my employer? I'm not dependant on this job, I know, but I have no reason to kick them out of office. It's for you. Or, more specifically, for my entertainment. In return for the rise in your public profile and to make the path clear for you to get into Education, we should start handing out stories to the media. It's beneficial in that it'll make you look honest and moral when your contemporaries are acting unwisely. Like these trips to Haruki's - cut them down, and when you do go, pay for them on your private account. So many people are charging the state for their nightly booze-ups. That story might break soon, and when it does, you'll be one of the only parliamentarians who's squeaky clean. That's how it'll look in the press. I'll wipe any of your previous account statements which are questionable and we'll start from scratch."

"Selling stories to the press? You expect me to degrade myself like that?"

"No, you're not. I am. I only expect honesty, and it really shouldn't be so difficult for you. Tell me the things you hear after a hard day at the office. Anything which outrages you. I know that despite your morbid interest in immorality you have a spectacular ability to be disgusted by it at the same time. Tell me the things that you'd tell your lover. Ooops, I suppose that's what I am, aren't I."

"No. This is nothing. Call me if you're planning on turning up at my office again. Let's try to keep this discreet," I say, turning away and catching sight of my profile in the full length mirror. Where's my fucking car already?

"We could have sex on the benches in the middle of Prime Minister's Questions for all it matters. I told you, the press is mine. So, you really think that this is nothing?"

"Really," I say firmly. "This does not equal a relationship. It's business."

"Who said anything about a relationship? No need to get so serious, Light. Anyway, think about it. We can discuss it later," he says and leaves. I'm thankful for a moment alone. My days are so full lately.

* * *

Mikami is throwing one of his spontaneous (but actually planned months in ahead in this case) social evenings. Apparently, the intention is to raise morale, but the real reason is that it's in honour of Watari's birthday because Mikami is an incredible arselicker. It's quite a privilege to be here and I've been looking forward to it for months. I had a suit made especially for it, in fact. Silk lined, black with a very subtle bronze sheen, single-breasted, super 150 grade tight weave with a nice drape and doesn't crease, three buttons (which are notoriously difficult to wear well. Some consider them a fad but I think they sort the men from the boys) and tailored to within an inch of its life. I had five fittings.

It's not respectable to be a social butterfly flitting from one group of people to the other, but I bow and nod and smile and speak when spoken to. The music here is absolute shit, but that's Mikami for you. For such an expensive house, the acoustics here sound like we're in a garage. I smile at some woman from the Cabinet Office who's standing self-consciously in the corner of the room. She's ignoring the person who's talking to her so she can watch me instead. I can't charge for it.

"Hey, Light," a voice says behind me, I feel the touch of her hand on my back, so I turn to face her. I have to take a moment to take her in because the last time I saw her, her hair was all over her face and the back of her head was banging against a wall.

"Hi, Naomi. I didn't know that you'd be here." I suppose that Mikami did manage to get Shiori to invite her after all. Frankly, I'm surprised that she's here. After splitting up with Jeevas, she has no reason to be.

"Shiori invited me. How are you doing?" she asks, giving me the once over. "You look good!" I'm quite aware of that, but bow in thanks anyway.

Naomi's grief is so strong that she appears to have increased her bra size. They're quite impressive and defy gravity. Someone bumps into her while passing by and she grabs her chest to cushion the blow. I'm not sure if I should mention them, but since I've seen their previous incarnation several times and now that they're like another person sandwiched between us, I feel like they deserved to be greeted. I gesture towards them with my glass of wine.

"Nice... uh. Very nice."

"Oh!" she gasps and then, while clutching them again in order to lean forward, she whispers to me. "Do you like them?" she says, practically shoving them in my face. I smile endearingly.

"I always did." This pleases her immensely and in an attempt to hide her happiness, she presses her cheek to her bare shoulder briefly.

"I've been thinking about it for a while and I had a couple of weeks off work, so... After Matt I just thought: 'Fuck you, Matt, I'm going to do some reconstruction work on myself,' y'know? Is he here?"

"Have you ever known him to miss free drinks?"

"Good. I want him to see them. Are they level?" she asks, standing back so I can appreciate the balance better.

"Like buoys on a calm sea."

"Do you think so? Hey, I'm sorry about the Misa and Matt thing. He's such a fucking bastard, Light."

I nod. "He is, but Misa's partly responsible."

"She's crazy, if you ask me. They both are. I've been reading a book about this: codependency and emotional dysfunction and stuff, and I think I understand now. Matt has low self-esteem issues."

"You think that Jeevas has low self-esteem?" I ask, stunned. "Naomi, it's really nice of you to be so understanding, but I think he just wanted to fuck Misa, to be honest."

"No, no, no, Light. You haven't read this book. You see, I'm an inverted narcissist, that's what my condition is. That's the technical term. I'm not up myself - I'm a giver. And Matt's low self-esteem prevents him from accepting praise, love, and affection, which I offer him selflessly, so he suppresses his emotions and acts in ways to invite people to reject him. He's avoiding life, really. He needs to heal himself and embrace a loving relationship." I am unable to blink.

"It sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."

"But Misa's a complete slut," she hisses, her demeanour changing in an instant. "Bleached blonde shit. I always thought that you were a saint to put up with her."

"She has her problems. They're not mine anymore though so - oooof!"

Naomi launches herself suddenly into my side like a rugby tackle and knocks the wind out of me. She grabs my hand and poses my arm around her back like I'm a mannequin. The whole interaction causes me to spill some wine on the carpet, so I rub it in with my shoe.

"Shhhh. It's Matt," she whispers.

Oh. Excellent. I draw her closer to me and we both smile broadly while awaiting Jeevas' inevitable arrival. He makes a beeline towards us and then makes a bad attempt at appearing to be happy to see us.

"Yagami. Naomi," he says.

"Jeevas," I reply cheerfully while Naomi beams her spotlight-on-a-criminal smile at him.

"Didn't expect to see you both here," he scowls, and then looks Naomi up and down. "Naomi, what have you done to yourself? Have you been in an accident? You're all swollen... there."

"No, this is me getting myself back together after splitting up from a cheating, worthless, dirty, inconsiderate, selfish, whoreman. I suppose that I should thank you for doing that to me because I've sorted out my life and I'm now in emotional recovery."

"I don't remember doing  _that_  to you," he says, pointing at her chest. "What the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, Matt. Is that the faint sound of jealousy I hear? Because you can't touch them," she replies, grabbing my hand which dangles over her shoulder, holding onto it for dear life and pressing it onto one of her new improvements. Jeevas looks at me and squints in anger, so I look towards the window and sip my wine nonchalantly.

"Yeah, Naomi," he replies sarcastically. "I'm jealous because you have wine and I don't. What's going on here anyway?"

Naomi flips her hair. "I don't know what you're talking about. We're at a party, Matt. But then, life is just one long party for you, isn't it."

"Bit desperate to just go off with Yagami, isn't it? No offence, Yagami," he mutters. I smile condescendingly in acknowledgement and turn back towards the window and the important social meetings that I'm missing out on. Mikami is talking to Watari. I'm insanely envious. This could be my opportunity to introduce myself and I must make it happen. I try to pry Naomi's hand from the headlock she has me in, but she just grasps my shirt collar to hold me in place. As I stare longingly at Mikami and Watari, L walks in front of them, sees me, waves and wanders towards us. Fuck's sake, no.

"Light, long time no see. How did your speech go?" he asks. It's 'Yagami', you idiot! Wait, if I can palm him off to Naomi, I can get out of here.

"Lawliet, this is Naomi Misora and she's the curator at The Z00 art gallery. Naomi, this is -"

"Hello," she blurts out, annoyed at the interruption, and turns back to Jeevas.

"Jeevas? Who on earth invited you here?" L asks.

"I'm employed by the government, Lawliet, and this is a government event. What's your excuse?"

"I'm glad that someone did employ you in the end. Was it part of some initiative for bringing the feeble-minded into the workplace?" This comment endears Lawliet to Naomi, who lets go of me to belatedly introduce herself to him.

"Lawliet-san, I think we're going to be very good friends," she says sweetly. He looks at her like he's only just noticed that she exists.

"Perhaps. If you tell me where you got that glass of wine."

She waves vaguely behind her. "Some boy,"

"You mean Light?"

"Do I look like a waiter?" I ask. "She means that there are trays going around, but I haven't seen one for ten minutes. The caterers are fucking appalling," I say as I finish my glass, and L turns back to Naomi.

"Misora-san, I wonder if I could borrow Light from you for a minute?"

"Why? Where are you taking him?"

"Errr..."

"Yep, you can borrow me," I say, prise Naomi from myself forcefully, take Lawliet's elbow and steer him in the opposite direction. "Thank you," I whisper when we're within safe distance.

"You were clearly in some difficulty. Misora... is that the happy ex of our friend, Jeevas? She's bigger than her photo in the papers suggests."

"I could not give a shit about Naomi and her silicone right now. Introduce me to Watari," I demand. We're hovering on the periphery like vultures.

"Is he here?" He looks around and notices my prey. "Oh, yes. So he is. I'm not sure that now's the right time. It's far too early."

"What are you talking about, too early? This is the perfect opportunity."

"It might seem that way to you, but -"

He stops abruptly as a woman's voice begins screaming behind us. We both turn to look, along with everyone else in the room, and it appears that Naomi has thrown her glass of wine over Jeevas. The exultation I feel is exquisite. I look around to see the damage that this will have on him. Some of the older politicians are leaving already and I can't help but notice that those who are left are trying to be blind to the fact that there's a domestic going on in the middle of the room. They move their mouths in a pretence of continuing a conversation, but they're waiting for someone to throw a chair and for Jeevas and Naomi to glass each other in the face. The shouting doesn't really make much sense. I can hardly make out the individual words as the blood rushes through my ears with the joy of seeing Jeevas' hair and face dripping Domaine Chevalier Pere & Fils Corton-Charlemagne Grand Cru all down his suit while he bellows at Naomi.

The argument is interrupted by Mikami, who quietly and unwisely stands between the two.

"Erm, I'm sorry, but can you keep it down a bit?" he asks. His eyes scan the room, find me, and beg me for backup. I make an attempt to take a step forward, but am held back by L. He's right. I can't help with this. I can't afford to be associated with it. Let Jeevas take the full hit.

While Naomi batters Jeevas over the head with open hands and he cowers, Mikami manages to quickly steer them to the open door of the balcony, pushes them outside, shuts the door, draws the blinds, and turns to the room.

"Let's put on some loud fucking music then, shall we?" he shouts cheerfully, and starts madly thumbing his iPod looking for something appropriately loud to drown out the continuing argument outside. Most of the older, influential politicians seem to have left now, ruining his party. Perhaps due to the time, perhaps because of how the sophisticated evening swiftly descended into a brawl you'd expect at a bar in a rough part of town. I glance around the room but can't see Watari. Panic seizes me, gripping my heart like a vice, so I approach Mikami who's putting some booming shit on the stereo.

"Mikami, where's Watari?" I ask.

"He left."

"Shit."

"Never mind, Yagami," he says, slapping me on the back consolingly. "Besides, how can you talk to him when there's a raging bitchslap going on? Fuck, can you find something on this thing?" He hands me the iPod. He's had a line or ten recently; he's a little ball of energy, sniffing compulsively. "It's just women. Fucking mentalists."

"And Jeevas," I point out.

"But Jeevas is just a man, and a very stupid one at that, and we have to stick together. Y'know, for the brotherhood? It's always the woman's fault," he tells me, and I nod in agreement as L drifts up beside me.

"I wanted to see how it would end," he says sadly. "They were about two minutes away from pulling each other's hair."

"Hey, did you see the tits on Naomi?" Mikami asks, his eyes as round as dinner plates.

* * *

My teeth are perfect for this job.

There's a photograph of me in the paper. I'm standing next to an old woman who's draping herself all over me, but the composition of the photo and the gulf of difference in our age and genetics makes me look like the shining beacon of the future. Something you wouldn't be surprised to find painted on the walls of a Russian Orthodox Church. There are rumblings in the lower ranks that I am the future.

L has seen my erotic netsuke collection and is now sitting on my sofa with a vodka. Oh, L. I couldn't have wished for better. Usually this kind of whoring out involves an old, loveless degenerate and you find no joy in it. But truly, I would have picked L out for myself, anyway. He's none of those things, and I don't even consider this to be a sale anymore. Sure, we both gain from this. I do more obviously than he does, and I'm still not certain of his reasons. He genuinely seems to enjoy using information, which I now freely give him, to massacre those he finds flawed and/or help me advance. Sometimes he uses his discretion as to who he sells out to the press, like how I've convinced him not to target Mikami so far with my heartfelt pleas. I wouldn't say never - the sword is hanging by a thin thread above Mikami's head - but there will come a time when it's the right time, and most beneficial to me. Now might be the right time. He's officially put himself forward for the Education job. I plan to announce my pitch next week. I stand abruptly from my chair and walk to my bookcase, dragging my finger distractedly along the spines and drink my double shot in one go. L notices. Of course he does.

"You seem particularly pensive tonight, Light," he comments. "Do have anything you need to say?"

"No. I..." I pause, overwhelmed by the inner turmoil I should feel, and L loses patience with me quickly.

"Come on, spit it out. We both have work tomorrow."

"Mikami might... might have a problem," I confess.

"Which is?"

"He's been using more and more lately. I'm worried about him."

"Oh, Mikami the coke fiend. Is he hitting crisis point, at last? Excellent."

"It's not excellent. What should I do?"

"To help him? There's nothing you can do. You know what I think," he says, drinks his vodka and sets the glass back on the table.

"You want me to sell him out now, don't you."

"You already have. I'm just waiting for you to let me off the leash."

I actually feel shaky with nervousness. Or anticipation, one of the two. There's something on the horizon and I could be there by next week.

"If I did, what would you do?" I ask, turning to face him.

"Me? Not a thing. I might happen to mention it to a journalist, but apart from that..."

"That'll destroy him."

"He'll only have himself to blame. And, Light, no more of this," he says, pulling out a little clear bag of white stuff from the pocket of my jacket which lies on the sofa next to him. So he roots through my clothes when I'm not looking. Subterfuge detecting shit.

"It's Mikami's."

"Whatever you say," he mutters dismissively, tossing the bag onto the table. "I don't doubt that you only do this with Mikami to encourage him. Yes, I know you." He does, a little. He knows me and likes what he finds. What a twisted bastard.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Mikami's my friend, I'd never do that to him. And I'm a dedicated, hardworking, government official. Why do you think I'd risk that for some drugs?"

"Peer pressure maybe? I don't know, Light. You have to stop pretending to care about Mikami or anyone else. You're in this for yourself; I know that, you know that. I'm allowing you to use me - it's a consensual thing. Believe me, if I didn't see that there was something in this for myself then we wouldn't be here. I'm not one of your dewy-eyed girlfriends. There's as much for me to gain here as there is for you, so you can stop with the lies and these little performances."

"I hate lies. I can still regret having to tell you these things, knowing what you'll do. Mikami helped me to where I am now."

"And now he's outlived his usefulness. What you don't need is an association with a junkie and a scandal waiting to happen, whether I blow the whistle on him or not. It's getting to the point now that if we leave it any longer then we'll be too late to benefit from it. These things always come out eventually. If it comforts you, by doing this, he'll be forced to sort himself. At least something good can come from his mistakes."

"Education," I say, coldly. Is it worth selling one of your closest associates out for a job? Yes. Yes it is.

"Of course, Education. And it'll benefit Health too. Whoever takes over can't be as bad as Mikami is. What does it look like, first having a man who has congestive heart failure on the job and then his successor being a drug-addict? They need someone wholesome and clean-living. I hope they can find someone appropriate because I can't think of anyone who fits that description. But I want you for Education. That is, unless you're frightened by the prospect? Maybe it'll be a bit too much responsibility for you. Sometimes I forget how young you are. Most twenty-six-year-olds who work for the government are pushing sandwich trolleys around."

"I'm not frightened," I say defiantly. "But, L. Education, already?"

"I think you're ready," he assures me with a smile. "The thing with you, Light, is that you're the kind of person who could be dropped into any situation and find their feet within seconds. But you don't need me to tell you that." No, I don't. But it's nice to hear it all the same.

"You really believe in me, don't you?" I say, walking towards him and sitting down next to him with the hope that I look appropriately humble.

"I suppose that I must do. I doubt that I'm blinded by love and ecstasy."

"You make things so easy for me."

"What do you mean? That's my job, isn't it?"

"I don't know. I don't know what you're doing this for."

"Truthfully, I find you fascinating. In you, I see a storm coming and I'm impatient to see it happen. A new world," he says.

Fuck me. He knows it. He believes it. People say that they have dreams for a new world - a better one - all the time, but my thoughts are not dreams; they're reality in waiting. I reach for the back of his neck and draw myself closer to him. His mouth opens expectantly and I allow my lips hover just over his so I can feel his breath on my face.

"You're right," I whisper. "I see it. I've always known it."

"Bring it to the people, Light," he whispers back to me, smiling like it's a joke. I wouldn't hear him if I wasn't so close. "Give them your new world."

So I kiss him, and it's rather savage, I admit. All my energy I'll give to him for what he's given me, and he can only have what I allow him to have because I'm afraid that's how things are.

I draw away briefly to climb on top of him, parting his legs with my knee. His hands curl around my head, not allowing me much distance, and he pulls me down upon him. I appreciate the heat, pressure, and pulse against me. It's amusing. And I scramble to force my hand into his trousers, making him take a sharp, rasping intake of breath which I interrupt by sweeping my tongue into his mouth. He groans softly and tilts his head to press his lightly stubbled cheek to mine like I've surprised him and he needs some time to recover. Shouldn't he know by now? Idiot.

So I kiss his neck and suck on the skin where his jaw curves towards his ear, otherwise I might as well check Facebook or read the paper instead. His body jerks against me involuntarily, I feel him, hard against my thigh and... that was all I needed for this to be mutually beneficial. I'm invested now. It's impossible not to release broken gasps into his mouth as his hand rushes, clasping to pull at my shirt and slide it along my spine. Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, all I really want in the world is to fuck him so hard that I have to mentally slap myself out this stupidity I've fallen into as blood pools in my groin. His tongue pushes inside my mouth, breaths gusting through our noses and across each other's faces like we're in a fucking wind tunnel.

Kissing him is normally like this. Nice and everything on a basic level, but what makes them for me is the desperate, aggressive urgency he throws in; all teeth, tongue, and absolutely no air. Thankfully, I'm an excellent swimmer and can hold my breath for four minutes and sixteen seconds, which comes in handy sometimes. He strains against my hand, and with a little 'how very dare you' squeeze of my fist, he groans and fights for breath as I drown him. Look at him, all pathetic and panting out a "fuck" like that. And I don't bother to hide my smug satisfaction when I smile. This seems like a natural break in proceedings (it's not like I want the poor bastard to hyperventilate and die on me), so I take the opportunity to pull away and deal with getting rid of these stupid clothes we're wearing. He watches me, and in his eyes there are flashes of desire for something dangerous. I feel almost affectionate towards him for it because it's just so unguarded. I can't help it.

It's moments like this when I realise how easily my rationality can disappear when he says and does exactly the right thing at the right time.


	3. I Am Not Here, I'm Just A Silhouette You Will Never, Ever Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't had a chance to read through this again to correct mistakes yet, but I hope it's readable.

I'm on page seven of  _The Star_. I should start a scrapbook.

Apart from that, today could not have been any less eventful. A few of us have been invited to a concert (classical - I should have brought a travel pillow with me) by a virtuoso violinist who I met at a party a few weeks ago. Well, I was invited, but she offered a extra tickets for some of my 'friends' as an afterthought since they were sitting there too. She made it very obvious to Mikami, Touta, and I - since she's one of those sexually open bohemian types - that she wants me in her bed and thinks that once I see her play the violin then I'll be in there with a sock on my cock. I don't know if I will. I haven't decided what to do about it yet. Sitting here in the restaurant beforehand, it seems like a complete waste of time.

Something which has more lingering excitement is that I've been invited onto a late night politics programme, which will coincide perfectly with the announcement that I'm running for Education. Usually the Cabinet send some sacrificial lamb either to prove themselves or to deflect attention from the people who are actually responsible for something unpopular. It can get quite nasty sometimes. Many a politician at the start of their career has died on that show, figuratively speaking.

"So where's this piece then?" Jeevas asks. He's tagged along. Bought his own ticket. I had some spare ones but I donated them to a charity raffle. I wouldn't have given one to him anyway.

"You can't refer to a woman as a 'piece'. That's chauvinistic and disrespectful," I correct him, sipping my wine afterwards. I've noticed that leaders tend to have a glass of water after answering a question well, so I'm practicing. "She's the lead violinist. Her violin is probably worth more than your apartment."

"Nyyyyeaaahh. Hey, let's play Fuck, Marry, Avoid!"

"Isn't it 'Kiss, Marry, Avoid'?" Touta says, awkwardly. Sayu is here as the sole female. I decided a while ago to let Touta be in charge of protecting her from the world, because I can't be bothered anymore. Personally, I think that she should be exposed to as much hideousness as possible so she can see the world as it currently stands, and then see it change. It's not all Hello Kitty, manicures, and pretty dresses. I know that she won't be corrupted, she'll be as disgusted as I am. Same blood and all that. As it happens, she's sitting at the same table as Jeevas, so she's exposed to hideousness incarnate.

"Kiss, fuck - same thing," Jeevas explains. "Ok, Sayu, you go first."

"Oh! Erm..."

"Don't be shy, let's go around the table. We're all friends here."

No, I can't do it. "Let's not bring my sister into this barrel of shit, shall we?"

"I don't mind, Light," Sayu protests. "I just have to think about it." This pleases Jeevas, who bounces round in his chair until he's facing her.

"Cool. Right. Me first. Would you fuck me?"

"Watch out, Lawliet's about," Mikami mutters into his hand. "Nobody let on and maybe -"

"L!" I shout and raise my arm like I'm desperate answer a question. An actual semi-intelligent person! As rare as finding a penguin in the Serengeti. He sees me and makes his way over to our table with Mihael trailing behind him.

"Oh, hello," he says cooly. "I didn't expect to see you all here."

"Sit down," I tell him, stealing a chair from the next table.

"I can't. I'm with Watari."

"Huh?"

"Work-based dinner and then an evening with The Lady at this classical nonsense concert." Why does he never mention these things?

"Where are they now?" I ask.

"We're meeting her there. We have a box -"

"Oooooh, a box at the opera house! Fancy," Jeevas says snidely and grabs the bottle of white while L glares at him and continues.

"But Watari's in the bathroom and may be some time. He has prostate trouble. We've heard all about it, haven't we, Mihael? It's like pissing glass, apparently."

"Nice," I reply. "Well if he's going to be pissing glass for a while then sit the fuck down and bring your boy."

He sighs. "Mihael, here are some awful people I don't really want you to meet."

"Hey." Mihael holds an limp hand up in greeting as his blond hair drips over his face. He's bored by us and this whole experience as L introduces us.

"This is Jeevas from Foreign, Mikami from Health, Light you've met, Matsuda from Health, and..." he pauses at Sayu. "I don't know who you are, I'm sorry. Are you awful too?"

"No. I'm Sayu."

"Sayu's my sister," I tell him. He nods in understanding.

"I should have noticed the resemblance but you look nothing alike. Pleased to meet you."

"Sayu's my wife," Touta says proudly, and Sayu snuggles up inside the crook of his arm which hangs off the back of her chair, infinitely pleased still to be defined as being other people's possessions.

"Here," Jeevas says, stealing another chair for Mihael. I wonder if the person at that table had company? Oh well. "Put your arses on those. We're playing Fuck, Marry, Avoid."

L takes a seat. "Oh. That's a strange game for such an elitist restaurant."

"Jeevas is playing it," Mikami explains defensively.

"Yagami is going to fuck, marry or avoid some violinist who's after him. He's inspired us," Jeevas chirps. He's out of his skull tonight. "Of course, she hasn't met me yet. I'll make it my mission in life to steal her away."

"Lucky Yagami. His milkshake brings all the girls to the yard," L says, eyebrows raised.

"Actually, you're perfect because you give this a homosexual spin and we can learn how we need to change so we can appeal to the minorities. Oh, and it means that the rest of us can be more inclusive in our choices. No holes barred. You start and we'll go around the table."

"So I turn up and bring the gay?" L asks. "I'll pass, thanks. I hardly think that that's interesting, enlightening or necessary, but you go ahead. I'm interested to hear Yagami's opinions, obviously; the man's an enigma. But will he answer truthfully?"

"Go on," Mihael says, nudging L. What the hell with the overfamiliarity? Bastard should know his place.

"Oh God. I went to law school for this? Ok, Mihael, don't be scared, but I think that I'd marry you. Avoid. I'm sorry, Sayu but your gender repulses me. Matsuda, I'm not sure what fucking what be involved with you, if any, but I'd give it a shot. Jeevas, avoid. Mikami, fuck and then avoid. Yagami, fuck. Incessantly. There you go." God, that's making it a bit obvious.

Jeevas can't quite get his head around something. "You'd avoid me?"

"Yes. I've met you, you see."

Mikami smacks me firmly on the back. "Yagami, your turn."

"I'm not sure if I want to hear this," Sayu muses. I hold my glass out for Jeevas to reluctantly pour me some wine, since he's hogging the bottle. I'd avoid everyone, to be honest, but I give everyone a brief glance and imagine myself in a post-apocalyptic rebuilding humanity scenario in which men could breed.

"Come on now, Sayu, you're a big girl now. Mihael, I don't know you, but fuck, possibly. Sayu, that would be incest. Tou -"

"Yes, but would you?"

"Shut up, Jeevas. Touta, marry. Jeevas, avoid. Mikami, marry."

"Oh, Yagami! Thanks. I appreciate it, my friend," Mikami smiles. We share a bromance moment.

"You're welcome."

"And what about me?" L asks.

"Fuck." I admit it. I'm guilty. Hang me. L grins from the might of the entertainment.

"I'd feel honoured, but you seem to be willing to fuck or marry everyone here apart from Jeevas and your sister."

"I'm not discriminatory. It would all be dependant on me being completely ratarsed anyway."

"And we all know what happens when you get ratarsed," Jeevas says. "Miki, your go."

"Mihael, fuck. Sayu, fuck."

"Hey!" Touta objects while Sayu wiggles in her seat.

"It's a game, dude," Mikami explains before pointing his finger at him. "And you, Matsuda, I would fuck and make you cry while I'm at it. Jeevas, I would S&M your arse. You deserve it. You'd be nothing but a pile of steaming, quivering shit. Yagami, marry."

"Thank you, Mikami," I say. We share another bromance moment. All is forgotten.

"You're welcome. And, Lawliet. Fuck, I guess. I don't know. I'm a bit frightened of you."

"That's a completely normal reaction but you wouldn't regret it," L tells him. Jeevas carpe diems.

"My go! Sayu, fuck. Touta, fuck. Mikami, fuck, Mihael, fuck, Lawliet -"

"Jeevas, stop."

"Ok, ok. Yeah, I'd fuck everyone, even Yagami. You know me. That was easy. Matsuda?"

"Erm. I'd avoid everyone apart from my wife. Sorry." He pecks her on the cheek.

"Oh, Matsuda. You poor, sweet boy," Mikami says with a healthy dose of pity while Sayu coos at her husband.

"I'd avoid everyone too, apart from Touta."

"Mihael?"

"I'd probably fuck everyone as well, I guess," he says with a hint of shame at his better nature.

"Well, aren't we generous?" Jeevas exhales. "That wasn't any fun at all. Maybe we should put it into action. We've got an hour before Vivaldi."

"How has your day been, Yagami?" L asks.

"I've been working on my backhand."

"Excellent. I look forward to seeing it."

Jeevas looks between the two of us. "What are you talking about?"

"Tennis," we say in unison.

"And how's your day been?" I ask L.

"Work has been draining and The Lady gave me a record. I don't own a record player, so this could be a problem. And I've been working on my serve."

"Your serve? I wouldn't say that it needs any work, but then, I'm easily pleased. You can use my record player if you want. I have a complete Bose system," I say proudly. Mihael seems unable to hold back and comes out of his shell.

"Bose are for show-off idiots who need to be told who the best are. They're overpriced and overrated. Everyone who  _knows_  knows that 70s sound systems are by far the best when combined with decent speakers." He tells us this as if we're vaguely interested, and in a tone reserved for a class of children who all failed their tests.

L shrugs. "Nevertheless, I might take you up on that. Thank you, Yagami."

"What's the record she's leant you?"

"'Man of Mystery' by The Shadows. I don't know either. It's her favourite song, apparently."

"Let's youtube it the fuck up," Jeevas says, grabbing his phone. "Sha...dows. Christ, it's hard being bilingual. Here we go. Rack it up."

He places his phone on the table and we all crowd around the tiny screen to see three men in terrible trousers, dancing from side to side with their guitars. After a minute, we realise that it's an instrumental.

"God, it's a bit shit, isn't it?"

L nods sadly. "Well, she is of that generation, I suppose."

"I'm losing respect for her," Jeevas says, turning it off.

"It makes me feel tired." Mihael admits.

"I know what you mean. Tired and depressed."

I take my jacket off, which seems to steal L's attention and he begins to question me.

"So, tell us more about this violinist who wants to sleep with you."

"Met her at a bar," I sigh with boredom as I sit back down. "She gave me tickets and I thought that I'd share them around." Truthfully, all these bastards desperately need a bit of culture. I'm simply confronting my debt to society.

"How thoughtful of you," he mutters. "Shame that you didn't ask me if I wanted a ticket."

"You're going, anyway."

"But you didn't know that. Just saying, it would have been nice to have been asked."

"Light needs a nice girlfriend for once. He keeps picking idiots." Sayu obviously hasn't connected Jeevas with Misa and it's clear that she hasn't read the papers, she's just gone on what people have told her.

"Misa wasn't an idiot exactly," I say quietly.

"Yes she was. You just felt sorry for her."

"Yagami, you shouldn't sell yourself short by seeing idiots," L advises me. "It's very wasteful."

Mikami rubs his nose with the palm of his hand in irritation. "I keep telling him that he would make an excellent wife for someone. If I was that way inclined, Yagami, Shiori would be out the door and I'd move you into my house to sew buttons on all my coats." I laugh at him, which seems to surprise everyone.

"What's all this about buttons?" L asks.

"Private joke," Mikami says, smiling over the rim of his wine glass at me.

"Let's play Find Yagami a Wife!" Jeevas shouts. His hair is sticking to his forehead and looks like someone who has overdosed twice but refuses to die out of sheer boneheadedness.

"Let's not," I answer, but Sayu is equally excited by the prospect, although she has good intentions, unlike Jeevas.

"No, I like that game. Let me find you someone, Light. Hey, Touta, what about Megumi? What do you think?"

"Megumi? Oh, I don't know. Doesn't she have a bat sanctuary?"

"Light likes bats!"

"I'm not being set up with one of your friends, Sayu," I state firmly. "And definitely not ones with bats. Forget it. I'm not that desperate that I need to be set up by my sister."

"Ohhhh..."

"Well," L says, standing suddenly. "Mihael tells me that Watari has emerged, so I must get briefed before The Lady turns up."

"Bring him here!" Mikami demands.

"No, I don't think so, thank you. Watari doesn't strike me as the kind of person who would want to play Fuck, Marry, Avoid and Find Yagami a Wife. Good luck with the violinist, Yagami."

"Call me when you want to use my record player," I say, like it's Polari slang for something else. Which it is.

"Ooooh, what an offer. Goodnight."

We watch him walk towards Watari, who's grasping the crotch of his trousers with a painful expression on his face. Even L's back looks sympathetic as he guides him back to their table.

* * *

The violinist wasn't anywhere near as wonderful and irresistible as she thought she was. Immediately after the concert, we all pissed off back to our respective homes. When I get back to mine, L's waiting outside my apartment door, propping up the wall. I thought that he might drop by, but I didn't expect him to wait. I'm not sure why.

"I thought that you were supposed to be doing things to a violinist right now?" he mutters, not even looking up from the floor as I approach silently. I palm my keys like a kind of stress ball in my hand as he continues. "She was terrible. She played 'Winter' far too quickly and stridently. Completely emotionless. It's one thing being able to play an instrument, but it's more than just notes on a page. Definitely not girlfriend material if she can't even follow the conductor. We didn't stay for the end; The Lady thought that her dress was too revealing for playing the violin."

"You're lucky that I didn't bring anyone back. What would they think if they saw you standing outside my apartment like a stray dog?"

"That I'm stalking you, probably."

"Aren't you?" I ask. I'm not interested, really. It's fairly obvious. He follows me inside.

"No," he states, throwing himself on the sofa while I switch on some wall lamps. "Why would I do that? You're very accessible." That's true. Dimmer switch. Good.

"Hmmm... How did it go with The Lady?" I'd tried to spot the box that they were in at the concert. I think that it was the one closest to the stage, since it was shrouded in darkness even before the orchestra started screeching.

"Very well, actually. And you'll be pleased to know that I put a good word in for you."

"Really? What did you say?"

"That you were very promising and that I was impressed by what you've done in the Transport Department. I neglected to say that I sleep with you occasionally and that I'm impressed by you in that department, too."

"Well, I suppose that I should thank you."

"Yes. You should," he agrees. I realise that we're just staring at each other in silence for too long, and it's not pleasant, so I turn quickly to go into the kitchen, taking off my tie as I go.

"Whisky?" I call over, and make some drinks in the ensuing awkward, dead air. Eventually I bring in two glasses, put them on coasters on my Noguchi coffee table and take a seat opposite him. I think that investing in these chairs was a very wise decision. They just fill you with a sense of excellence.

L is almost bent over, resting his forearms on his knees and he gazes into the centre of his world, otherwise known as the tumbler of whisky I gave him. I wonder if he's using it like a crystal ball. These tumblers were very well bought as well, I think, as I look at the one I'm holding. Most of the shower in the House hire people to style their lives for them but I'm just naturally gifted. It doesn't seem fair that I should be so good at so many things when others are struggling at being good at simply existing, but they should just try harder.

"Light?" he asks, breaking my concentration. He's still looking at the glass. Maybe I should give it to him? "I don't care, obviously, but out of interest, are you seeing anyone else? Or have you? Over the last few months, I mean."

"I don't really have time, L," I say with a snort of amusement. "You take up too much of my time." I think that I might have a bath. I bought some Dead Sea salt crystals which I had imported and -

"It's just... no. It doesn't matter."

"No, it doesn't," I agree. "Let's put on that record The Lady gave you." I reach forwards for his briefcase.

"The violinist was a woman," he says suddenly. I pause mid-stretch and then fall back into the chair.

"You noticed that? Well done."

"You know what I'm thinking."

"Oh!" I exclaim with the joy of understanding. "You're wondering why I didn't take her up on her offer for the sake of variation? Well, ordinarily I might have, despite her desperation, which was a bit disgusting, really. I don't know. Why do you think I didn't?"

"I wouldn't be asking you if I had the faintest idea, would I? I don't know about these things, but she had a very low-cut dress on. I mean, they were basically out there and swinging free, so I presume that that means she'd be reasonably attractive to people who like that sort of thing."

"I'll tell you what you think but are too worried about offending me to say. You think that I'm a morally deficient, money grabbing idiot who'll fuck anything, so why didn't I? Well, as it happens, I'm actually quite discerning. I have my reasons for everything I do. I have to, or I'd be like Jeevas and all the rest of them."

"Hang on a minute, I'm confused. You say that you're discerning, but having seen Misa being interviewed, I can't understand what you saw in her."

"No, I can't either," I admit.

"There must have been some reason?"

"Erm... well, she was pretty. And she was slightly famous at the time. Kind of sweet in an annoying way at first, and clever enough to know that she wasn't clever enough for me so she just let me do what I wanted. And, yes, I know that sounds bad, but after she fucked Jeevas and fucked my door up, I'm not her greatest champion."

"But you never loved her. I don't think that you even liked her, you cast her off so easily and you're all friendly with Jeevas. You broke up with her in the morning and you were more than willing to bend over for me by one o'clock the same day. "

"That does sound bad too when you say it like that. I don't know. I was overcome by desire for you, L. What do you want me to say? I'm a man in my twenties and I think it's called sewing wild oats. I'm not going to pass up on things."

"But you did. The violinist."

"Ah, but I have you, don't I?" I smile viciously. I'm sure I can turn this around, but L's face says no.

"What's so special about me? I didn't tell you that I was going to turn up here. I wouldn't have minded if you'd gone off with her. You wouldn't even have had to tell me."

"For someone who doesn't mind, you're talking about it a hell of a lot. Is it just because she was a woman? Also, I need to point out here that she was the one who was interested, not me."

"The woman thing? Maybe. But you know, I'm a man of the world. I can cope if you like both."

"It's not a case of liking," I mumble.

"What is it then?" he asks. For God's sake. I don't like anyone.

"L, I need a wife at some point. It's irritating but it's a fact. You know that."

"Oh, for politics."

"Of course, for politics. It's all gods and goddesses, isn't it? Not lone gods or gods and gods."

"You could change it."

"Change people's opinions? Only to a certain extent. I'd have to kill them."

"Even if you don't get in power, you'd get First Secretary, easily. Think what impression that would make. You'd make it possible for someone in the future."

"I'm not in this on some crusade against bigotry for someone else to take the glory when I'm dead."

"No, you're in it for you," he says. "I know that. But sometimes I think that you might actually -"

"I can make a real difference as Prime Minister, but  _only_  as Prime Minister," I interrupt. I have to cut this the fuck down and remind him of reality. "I wouldn't be under anyone's thumb. If you want to do it then go ahead. You could be a politician. It's not like you're under-qualified."

He laughs bitterly. It makes me cross my legs.

"Are your reasons for doing things always so professionally motivated?" he asks.

"Professionally?" I repeat and drink my whisky. It doesn't burn. "Define 'professional' for me in this context."

"For your own gain."

"Ah, you mean generally? Well, yes. Isn't it the same for everyone? Don't we all only do things for ourselves? Even apparently selfless people have their reasons. Places in heaven, to be better thought of, to be able to consider themselves a kind person, so they can ease a guilt complex about watching people starving on a widescreen HD plasma TV..." I could go on, but I have to stop to drink my Nikka Yoichi twenty-year-old single malt.

"I'm not disputing that," he says, shaking his head with dismissal. "But I'm not asking about everyone, I'm asking you."

"I find it hilarious that you think I'm any different. Do you, really?"

"Yes. I know you are."

He's quite beautiful with truth sometimes. I don't think that I can look at him anymore in case I start to hate him.

"Let's put on this fucking record, eh? Let's blast out some 'Man of Mystery'," I say suddenly, jumping up to retrieve the record from his case and run over to the stereo. The room fills with some twangy cowboy stupidity as I stand over the record player, staring intently at the spinning black disc like it's my mind that's making it play. My neighbours must think that I've gone insane. Like all these old songs, it's repetitive. The fact that's it's short is the only thing that stops me from grabbing a knife and stabbing myself repeatedly in the ears. The song finishes and after a few seconds of the delicate scratching from the record, I can't help but say: "God. That really  _was_  shit, wasn't it?"

"It's not the best thing I've ever heard," L says from the sofa.

"At one point I thought it was going to do something but it just kept on doing the same thing over and over again. Let's put it on again. I can't actually get over how shit it is." I want to try and visualise The Lady this time, dancing to this in an empty room with her pearl necklaces swinging.

"Please don't. I think that I might kill myself if you do," he begs and sinks further down. His head is nearly between his knees.

"Yeah. I suppose once was enough. Do you want another drink? If not, I might go to bed."

"Just like that," L sighs again and takes a gulp of whisky.

"Well, I thought that you'd go with me."

"Yes, you're so dense that you would expect that. I  _was_  talking to you, but by all means play some records and go to bed. I'll see myself out."

"Look, I don't want to sleep with the violinist, ok? Random men, women, dogs, goats, whatever. Not going there right now. What's wrong with you tonight? You're like Misa with all this introspection into everything I say. I don't understand you. You say you don't care and suggest that I'm stupid for  _not_ banging the violinist, but then you're like this with all the mopey 'you could change the world' gay icon shit. Seriously, I'm getting whiplash from all the conflicting messages you're giving me."

"I know. I'm sorry, it's just... I don't know. You're in my head a lot." He grabs a fistful of his hair like it's tied to something that he can yank out of his brain if he pulled hard enough. I tiredly walk back and sit down opposite him again.

Now, while I don't share these fluffy feelings, I don't want him to feel humiliated and alone. It wouldn't help me in the long run. I blame all this on his taking a role as an aide to The Lady. I haven't benefited from that so far. Things were uncomplicated before. Now he's moved into the same office as me, more or less. Maybe I shouldn't have invited him to my apartment in the first place. Yes, distance is what is needed here.

"You're in mine a fair bit of the time too," I say consolingly.

"I doubt that. It's all campaigns and plans up there."

"Not as much as you'd think, actually. I plan in advance, so there's room for distractions."

"A game then. Everything's a game to you."

"You're not a game to me, L," I admit, and he looks up at me for the first time in ten minutes. He has to see me in order to judge whether I'm lying or not, and his eyes wash all over me.

I didn't mean for it to sound the way it did: all soft and tender and like it was the truth. It just came out that way because I'm tired of this conversation and L not being like himself. I make myself sick sometimes, I really do. No, he's not a game; he's my ally, isn't he? He knows that. Still, I don't like people around me to feel bad on my account, even though it's not my fault, it's theirs. It's boring, how predictable people are. No one can make you feel a certain way, you're the only one who's responsible. People are so willing to blame others for their own problems. Pathetic.

But he's still staring at me. Just when I'm about to say something else and backtrack a little bit, because I really think that I should clarify, he interrupts me.

"This table's in the fucking way," he says aggressively, and suddenly knocks it over to get to me. I love it when he's like this; he's like no one else. Like I'd let anyone else do this to me and my poor Noguchi coffee table. Only the very, very best for me. It never expected to be assaulted like that - it's a classic - but it's all for a good cause. I can always replace it.

L grabs a fistful of my hair and presses me into the chair to steal all the air from me. I let him, because it doesn't really matter what he does.

* * *

And so I experience a few days of heady wonder where everything is joy and nice weather and can I hold the door open for you it would be my absolute pleasure I have lived only to see this moment and I win every tennis match but L doesn't seem to mind and find that I'm naturally talented at golf which doesn't really surprise me and beat Jeevas and Mikami in my first ever game I'm  _so_ good in fact that I buy a set of golf clubs though I'm sorry but I'm never going to wear those argyle sweaters and then I meet Takada and Watari on the golf course on Sunday to find that they actually know my name which is excellent but I don't know why they wear pastel pink and yellow it makes them look like deformed overgrown babies of course I'd love to play a game with you but I warn you I'm not very good at it I'm just a beginner I don't even know what my handicap is offhand but we should have drinks sometime I'll put it on my tab yes L I'm actually maybe possibly and for the first time in my life but there's something missing and I must find it I can't lose it just lie down or push me against a wall and shut your mouth just stop talking I have things to do and you make me feel of course I don't mind I'm very good at this it's no problem I wouldn't do it if I didn't want to would I you know me better than that no you're not a game to me.

But, for now, we're having breakfast before work in some themed café which thinks it's in Paris. I'm pleased that I wore the right suit today. It's a sunny day, unusual for this time of year, and is perfect for a linen and wool mix when paired with an appropriate coat and scarf. I'd like to think that I look like I was painted into this setting. It's a wonderful photo opportunity, but the press are never there when you need them. L would have had to step to one side while I posed with a croissant. On behalf of the government and my country, I thoroughly approve of this café.

L is reading the morning papers and has a stack of them in front of him. I hate to read over breakfast, although I suppose that I will have to start soon. You should fully concentrate on eating, when you  _are_ eating. You should start with a glass of water first, as that prevents you from gorging or feeling hungry later in the morning. You should avoid too much acidic juices, as it disrupts the natural pH of your stomach and can cause tooth decay unless you carry a travel toothbrush with you at all times. If you concentrate on what you're doing, you can achieve anything. And at breakfast, which is the most important meal of the day, fully concentrating on what you're doing allows your brain enough time to fully _register_ what you're doing. L doesn't do this and the distraction is unwanted to me. I feel that I should tell him all these things. It could have a positive effect on his life.

"Anything interesting?" I ask.

"Nope," he answers, looking up at me briefly. "Same old."

"Then you should eat your breakfast."

"I am," he says, picking up his coffee cup as he continues to read. I look at the broadsheet on the top of the pile, which is neatly folded. The text is small, stark, and blocky on the peach coloured paper it's printed on. Suddenly, I don't see characters - I see the spaces between them, and it forms images, like seeing animals and things in clouds. I blink, keeping my eyes shut for a moment, and when I open them again, it was like it never happened at all. I smile but it feels tight on my face.

"What are you doing today?"

"The firm need me to come in to discuss a settlement agreement," he groans. "Then back to have a meeting later with Takada maybe, but not much besides that. Something may turn up. It normally does. What about you?"

"I'll have to check my diary." Which I won't do until after breakfast and reading the papers. I have my routine and he's ruining it. I know what I'm doing today but I have to check my diary first. He doesn't comment, which annoys me, so I make something up on the spot. "Might go to the gym before I head into the office."

"Don't. We could play tennis later. Two o'clock?"

"Can't. I'm making a speech in the House today."

"I thought you said that you had to check your diary?" he says, smiling a few seconds afterwards to mask his suspicion. "You didn't tell me that you had a speech today."

"I was distracted," I smile back at him. It's all about the smiling today. "It's nothing. One of my constituents recently lost a court case for right to die. I thought that I'd comment on it and lend my support."

He glances at me - just big black eyes sitting behind the paper he's holding. Sometimes he reminds me of when I hear a song at a particular moment, maybe in the early morning when I'm lying in bed with my headphones on and the sunlight is fighting through my window. It's just some little coda I ignore all the rest of the time, but in that moment it feels like it was written just for me.

"I know the case," he says, putting down the paper to picks up another, pausing for a moment while he scans the front page. After apparently losing interest in such a cheap, nasty gossip rag, he puts it face down on the table as an example to the others. "My firm were counsel to the state."

"You were in opposition?"

"Not me, personally, but I've sat in on some of those cases before. It could be implemented one day. The right case just has to come forward. Don't look at me like that, Light. Both sides require advice to put forward a coherent case. It's just my job."

"So your opinions don't come into it? You'll argue for whoever pays you."

"Yes," he says bluntly, and his eyes flicker up to see what effect his mercenary nature has on me. "I have no personal opinions in court and I make no apologies for it. I'm only here to put forward the best case I can for justice's sake. If I happen to be representing the wrong side and I win, then I still won. If you're upset about this particular case, then I'm sorry, but High Courts are there to adapt and develop common law in order to keep up with the requirements of justice in a changing society. Major changes involving matters of social policy of that nature are for the government, and you lot are far too frightened of approving of something so controversial at the moment. I suppose that's your business, or it will be in a few years. Regardless, euthanasia is a risky topic to associate yourself with. Are you sure you should?"

"There's a petition with over seven hundred thousand signatures, so I'm going to present it to the House. If it has that kind of public support, I should be seen to take notice of it. I'll be non-committal, don't worry. I'm just representing my public."

" _Your_ public?" he repeats, and then clears his throat. "But at this level, it's not your area, is it? So, you're going to the gym before euthanasia and all before midday. By that time I'll probably just be getting around to having my morning shower."

He picks up another paper and opens it wide like wings, and I hold my croissant in mid-air, my mouth hanging open for a second. "You're taking the day off now?" I ask.

"Yes, I've just decided."

"Oh. Maybe we  _could_  meet up later then?"

"I don't know. We'll have to see how the day pans out. Keep your diary free," he tells me as he continues to read. Papers should never take precedence over me. I have never played second fiddle to a newspaper at breakfast, so this infuriates me, but for some reason I can't bring myself to say a damn thing about it. I pour some of my coffee down my throat to ease down the lump of pastry which feels like it's lodged in my chest.

I'm showing too much concern. What I say next must be deflected somehow, or else not say anything at all. My words point to interest but my actions point towards it lying with the flakes of chocolate on my empty plate. I press them into the pads of my fingers, like squashing flies, and place them on my tongue.

"Are you alright? You seem a bit different today," I mutter, keeping my voice low.

"I'm fine. Or at least I was, until you drove a steam roller through my life," he says, just like it's a fact told cheerfully but with a calm, straight face as he turns a page. The combination of words fighting against mannerisms makes me laugh.

"Ha! I didn't mean to," I reply.

"I didn't mean to let you," he admits with equal calm to his previous statement.

"Oh, are you serious? I thought you were joking. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I normally reflect on things at this time of the morning, and you just happen to be here."

"So I can catch this show every day if I wanted to? Wow. I've never been compared to a steam roller before. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?" I feel lifted somehow. "Maybe tennis this afternoon then when I've finished?" I suggest. "Call me if you're free. Oh shit, no. Sorry, I can't. I promised Mikami that we'd try the new squash court."

"Somehow I don't think that that's going to happen," he tells me, putting down the barely read paper

"Why?"

"Because Mikami will have other things to worry about this afternoon."

"What do you mean?" I ask. He pushes the overturned paper towards me and turns it over for the big reveal. The headline was a fuzzy, long lens photo of Mikami inhaling coke off a table top. I can't take my eyes from it. It's glorious. "L, tell me that you didn't do this."

"It's time for you to move to Education."

* * *

It's no surprise to anyone when Mikami is pushed out of office and hastily shuttled off to a rehab centre to avoid prosecution. I had to be careful not to be seen with him, but publicly stated that I admired his 'courage to confront his problems and that he should be given all of our support'.

I was on the panel on TV and did spectacularly well. My arguments were concise, considered, and realistic. I was also asked about Mikami, as this took place just after his resignation, and refused to comment, apart from to say that I did not condone drug use and that it is a social problem which must be tackled. Then I wrote an article for  _The Japan Times_ which did very well for me. The first line of the article was chosen as the headline, though I would have preferred something a little less sentimental to head the piece. As it happens, it spoke to the nation of personal loyalty, and spread across social networking sites like a fire.

"First and foremost, Teru Mikami is my friend."

This was followed with a few weeks of some selfless acts of campaigning masquerading as kindness, including visiting children's hospital wards and schools, being invited back to my old university to be shown around the new lecture theatre, 'secretly' donating some money my grandfather left me to a new cancer research facility, campaigning for and saving a library service which the local government was trying to shut down, saving a dog from being put down (Sayu and Touta have it but I walk it some mornings when the paparazzi are about), and opening a retirement home, which everyone else declined to do. An old woman took quite a shine to me and kept groping my arse as we had our photos taken. I was quite scared for a moment there.

All these things combined make me a permanent fixture in the papers as a force for good. I cheer people up over their cornflakes across the demographics. I'm not old enough to make me unappealing to the young, which is important. I might be the first politician for years, possibly ever, whose photo is lovingly scissored from the newspaper and stuck inside schoolgirls' lockers. They can't vote, but they have influence over their parents, and it's good to encourage the youth to have an interest in politics. I hardly have to say a word since my actions speak for themselves. I'm keeping my words in reserve.

I am a good man. There are not many of us about.

Did I win the seat for Education? Of course I did.


	4. Stop Chasing Shadows, Just Enjoy It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As if it doesn't need mentioning, I cannot proof-read to save my life. Please forgive all and any mistakes and thank you so much for reading.

I feel a little like a feral thing which someone has decided to put a collar on. I don't mind, it's just that it would appear to people that I'd prefer to be here than somewhere else. The last time I stayed in on a Friday night was two years ago and I had flu. Friday night is the best night to strike up possibly valuable contacts, but then, I don't really need to think about that so much anymore. Let the people on the bottom tier try and fight their way up. It's time for different tactics now.

L stands in front of me to hand me a plate, which I find a rather ridiculous thing for a lawyer to do, and I look around him so that my view of the television isn't obscured. He throws himself onto the sofa beside me and picks up  _The Twelves Caesars_. Caligula has just made his horse a consul, apparently. L says that it's a Roman version of  _The National Enquirer,_ but I don't care about that _._  I'm watching a European quiz show on cable and getting quite jubilant. I'm competing against two university teams from 1997.

"Fuck off and put your teeth back in. What did you say? Fooowaaancissss Bacon? WRONG!"

The presenter of the show says: "I'm afraid that that's incorrect."

"Of course it's incorrect, Jeremy. Get out, you stupid bitch. Go on."

"Which Alfred Hitchcock film of 1951 features Farley Granger as tennis star Guy Haines, who finds himself involved in a murder plot?"

"Strangers fucking on a train," I say.

Insane old crone says: "Er...  _Dial M for Murder_?"

"WRONG!"

Jeremy says: "The answer is  _Strangers on a Train_."

"Minus five fucking points, you absolute moron. L, look, their team is in the minus figures now."

"Oh, so they are," L says without looking up from his book.

"And that's the end of general knowledge round," Jeremy tells us. "Your starter for ten points is on world politics."

"L! L! The world politics starter for ten!"

"Which Secretary of State resigned from Jimmy Carter's administration in 1980 over the failed attempt to rescue US hostages in Tehran?"

"Cyrus Vance," I say confidently. So confidently that I turn to L and brush his hair off his face, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's onto Claudius now.

"Henry Kissinger?" the idiot says.

"WHAT?!"

Jeremy sighs. "No, the answer is Cyrus Vance."

"Kill them, Jeremy," I say, sitting up with my pizza. "They don't deserve to live."

L does look up at this, glances at what I'm watching and mumbles, "Light, I don't think you should watch this anymore. It's making you violent."

"But I am victorious. I have more points than the winning team at the moment."

Jeremy is off again. "Published in 1940, the novel  _Darkness at Noon_ , about a show trial in a Soviet-like regime, was originally written in German by which Hungarian-born author?

"Shit. I don't know that one."

"Arthur Koestler," L says, turning the television off.

"Wait! We didn't hear the answer!"

"I don't need to. Have you taken something?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're high as a kite."

"No, I'm giddy with success."

He squints as he looks at me, decides to believe my plea, and turns back to his book.

"Eat your disgusting cheesy, bready, tomatoey thing, Light," he tells me. He's unusually quiet tonight and has been since he turned up. Unlike him, I'm in a wonderful mood as I've just had new carpets fitted throughout the apartment and my 'Gus I' print from the 'Human Bodies' series by Nadav Kander has turned up and is on the wall, which is rather brave of me, I think. Today is a good day.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Mmm... I was just thinking," he replies, turning another page.

"You go very serious when you're thinking. You should stop."

"I can't do that, unfortunately."

"I'll stop it for you," I say, grabbing the book from his hands and throwing it on the table. This sofa sure has seen some action lately. I worry about the springs. Maybe we should relocate? "I hate this shirt of yours. It has to go."

"What's wrong with it?" he asks, astounded. I'm equally astounded by his lack of enthusiasm, but thankfully he catches on. "God, what's wrong with  _me_? I don't care about the shirt!" he says, practically trampolining onto me. Hur-fucking-rah. "You're right. Both our shirts have to go. And the trousers. They're awful."

"All the clothes! Bedroom!"

"Yes. No. Light, thank you, but no. Oh, alright then. Argh! No. No, that won't solve anything," he sighs, pushing himself away and back into a seated position. "I saw The Lady today."

"Does she normally have this effect on you?" I ask in my recumbent state.

"No. It's what was discussed. I didn't think much of it until I was in the car over here and it's been on my mind ever since. It's using up a lot of brain power which I think could be better employed with other things. "

I sit up. "Tell me about it."

"She's very concerned about the upheaval and deaths in the cabinet. I'm not sure what she expects me to do about it. I suggested that she send everyone to have a discreet health check and -"

"What was she wearing?" I can't help but interrupt. L looks at me, surprised.

"What? A blue suit, I think."

"Blue. So, she's attempting to reassert herself because she's feeling insecure about her position. That's good. What kind of suit? Trousers, skirt or a dress?"

"A skirt, maybe? I don't know! I'm sure it stopped just below her knees so it might have been pantaloons but I don't really take much notice of these things. She wasn't naked, that's all I know. What does it matter?"

"Chanel?"

"How should I know that?"

"You're useless. I'm trying to get a mental picture here because what she was wearing would have communicated something about her state of mind and... forget it. Carry on," I say, wiping my greasy hands on a napkin. I should have used his shirt instead. Horrible rag. Polyester mix.

"Well, that was it, really. I'm trying to stem the press on the deaths but it's very difficult when they're dropping like flies and reshuffles are in the public interest. It's hard to hide dead bodies. I'm trying to bury them in the little notices rather than proper articles."

"Don't bother," I exhale and I lift his feet from the floor, rotate him, drop his legs onto my lap, and rub circular motions into his instep. Works for me most of the time if you get someone who knows what they're doing, and I know what I'm doing. "The government won't fall because politicians are dying," I continue. "The public love it all the uncertainty. You know that they're actually taking bets on who will live and die? They don't know or care who's who and they expect nothing since most politicians are so ineffectual. We're just clones to them. You shouldn't worry about it and neither should The Lady. Do you think it would impress her if I told her? I could send her a note."

"No. Don't do that. The Lady wonders whether it could be a conspiracy," he says.

"But most of them are dying of heart attacks and if there was anything weird about it then it would show up on tests, wouldn't it? How can you make someone have a heart attack? That's stupid."

"That's what I said."

"Yes, so there you go. I don't know, you could look into it. It's a police thing though, isn't it? What about hospital records?"

"Not many of them had drug tests so it'd involve me having to dig people up, which would be unpleasant and will draw attention. Plus, most of them were cremated, of course, so I can't really do anything with them apart from have a mad half hour scattering them to the four winds."

"There's not much you can do then. Health screening of politicians is probably the best option, you're right. It won't change anything though. If they're going to die then they're going to die. Death is inevitable." I suddenly have the urge to kiss his instep because I like the hollow there. I wonder how he'd take that? I'm just going to go for it anyway, but then he coughs and swings his feet away from me.

"I want you to book yourself in for a full health check on Monday," he says. It makes me laugh.

"I didn't realise that I looked like I was going to keel over."

"All the same, I'll arrange for you to see my doctor."

"My doctor is probably the best in Japan. How dare you suggest that your doctor can usurp my doctor? I can't believe that you're actually worried about me. Like... wow. Fuck me gently with a two by four."

"I'm not worried about you," he mutters.

"INCORRECT!" I shout and collapse in a bit of a crumpled state. He moves away from me to the far end of the sofa.

"Shut up. I have a lot riding on you. I do a lot of riding on you, too, but that's beside the point. I've put a lot of effort in to get you where you are now and I'm not losing for the sake of a health check and your ridiculous ego. Just do it. I'm telling you to as your advisor. Fucking politicians."

I throw myself back on the sofa and stare at the black screen like there's still something to watch.

"Fine, fine, whatever," I grumble. L picks up his book again and shifts further away from me. This annoys me enough to say something I was going to leave until the day itself, or maybe not say at all. "L?"

"Yes, L is me," he huffs back.

"It's my birthday on Wednesday."

"It is?" he says, turning to face me.

"I wouldn't mention it, but I'm meeting with a few people for drinks and all that shit. Wasn't my idea. You can come along if you're not doing anything else. My parents will be there, so if you plan to antagonise my dad or something then, really, don't bother. I'd pay you to stay away. Anyway, I'm busy on Wednesday."

After a few seconds of awkward silence during which I think that he may have suddenly contracted some kind of disease and passed out, he speaks. "What is this?" he asks.

"I'm telling you what I'm doing on Wednesday and that you can turn up if you want. Or not. If you want. Whatever you want."

"Why are you asking me to your birthday party with your family?"

"It's not a birthday party! What am I, five? Forget it. It was just something to say because you've turned the TV off."

"It's abnormally serious for you. I think people might be suspicious if I turn up. For all intents and purposes, I'm just your tennis partner and we're not supposed to like each other very much since I murdered you in the inquiry."

"Whoa, ok. I'm glad you're sitting down because this might take some time. Firstly, you didn't murder me in the inquiry. It took me all of five minutes to absolutely slaughter you and I wasn't even having one of my best days. Good try though, sport. Secondly, loads of people are going, most of which I hardly know. It's practically a free for all and there'll be cake. You like cake more than anyone I've ever met, so you might as well eat it. And no one is going to think that we're fucking a month of Sundays. They'll think that you're a useful contact and that you're doing one of your infamous 'I was just passing by' jobs. We've been playing tennis for a while now - nearly a year - so it wouldn't be inconceivable that you'd drop by. Even my dentist is coming and I don't think he's worried that people might expect him to have me over a bar stool. But, if you're worried, I'm really not bothered if you come or not. Seriously, don't put yourself out." Overall, he looks shocked and I really don't know why. I think that's what's so annoying about it. "Do you want a drink?" I ask, standing up to stride to the drinks cabinet.

"No ice," he calls over. "Ok, Light. I'll see if I can make it."

"Great, whatever. We could just meet here afterwards instead. I don't know what time I'll be back though. It doesn't matter." I'm giving him some  _bastard_  ice in his whisky anyway. He doesn't say anything for a minute or so but he must hear me putting half of Antarctica into his glass.

"Oh God, I suppose that I'll have to get you a present now," he moans. "Why do people have to have birthdays? It's so inconsiderate. Like I haven't got enough to worry about anyway. But I can't just come in, take your cake and run. That would look strange. Would you like a canary? You have to feed them though, Light, or they die. Would you remember to feed it? They're supposed to last a little while, they're not like a bunch of flowers."

"Here, drink this and shut up. I'm putting a film on so you can read about mad Emperors somewhere else, if you want." I sit down again and thumb through the tv guide while I feel his eyes boring a hole in the side of my face. Fuck the fuck off.

"You're annoyed with me," he says.

"No I'm not. Why would you think that?"

"Because I questioned you."

I exhale. This is oh so familiar. He's just a different sex and isn't blond. "You didn't have to point out that we're storming the cotton gin and make it sound like being in the same room as me is the scandal of the century. Anyone else would just say 'Yes, Light, thank you, Light, I'll look forward to it. Where and what time, do you like socks, and is there a dress code?' but you -"

"Where is it?" he asks.

"The New York Bar."

"Nice."

"I know that, don't try to change the topic. So yeah, anyone else would say _that_  and be pleasant and polite, but with you it opens a whole court case. You look like that woman. Shit. I can't remember her name because she's so incredibly tedious. She's in the Attorney General's Office. I only mentioned it to her since we were in a lift together and I didn't have anyone from the AGO on the guest list at that point. She looked like I'd asked her to take her clothes off and brace herself. God's sake. Can't people see that I'm using this as an opportunity to ingratiate myself?"

"You don't really have to ingratiate yourself with me," he points out and lazily strokes the back of my neck. "I think you're well and truly ingratiated. You know what I think of you."

I mull over his words as the tone seems to slow down and intensify into something horrible. A contented smugness fully expecting contented smugness in return, or for me to loll all over him like some grateful dead fish. His fingers burn against my skin with pride and possession and... That's it, this has to rewind. I'm so pleased for him if he finds this as funny as he appears to. I like to catch things early and you, my darling bastard, desperately need to be caught. You have to know your place. This is a relay race. You might have some part to play in it, but it's me who's going to cross the line and I'm not taking you with me. Don't see things that aren't there. Don't imagine yourself to be worthy. You're a sleepwalker, just like the rest of them. I'm not yours.

"We should stop this."

I shake off his hand. He doesn't do what I expect him to, which is to go all wide-eyed and scream at my dismissal, but then I'm so used to Misa that it's a shock to find that not everyone reacts the same way. Instead, he leans back like he's in Jamaica.

"Elaborate," he says.

"I'm not sure what you think my asking you to come for a drink signifies."

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I thought that you'd rather avoid cause for talk, and if I turn up then people might talk. The last thing you need is a smear campaign, and Jeevas already suspects something."

"Jeevas?"

"He asked Mihael if we really are just playing tennis. They're quite pally."

"Wait, Mihael knows?" I ask. I'm angry but you wouldn't really know it. In contrast, his normally emotionless face is now crumpling with anger, so I suppose we're in for a shouting match after all.

"You really do think that everyone is stupid, don't you? That we're all just drones around your fucking beehive. Yes, Mihael knows. He wouldn't have told me about Jeevas otherwise."

"Fantastic. And you didn't think that I should know about all this? God, L!"

"You're overreacting. I gave him a pay rise for his discretion, it's perfectly alright. And please close your mouth, Light. It's very difficult to be angry with you when you look like a startled sex doll. I didn't tell you because it was unimportant. Mihael is trustworthy and Jeevas is a wanksplash who no one takes any notice of, anyway. And he's insanely jealous of you, which helps. People would probably think it was wishful thinking if he did voice his concerns."

"It changes nothing in any case. I still think that we should stop."

He reaches for his whisky with a sigh. "Again, you're overreacting. Don't take your timidity out on me."

"You think that I'm timid? Are you kidding me? Look, I just preferred things when they were simple and I think you're getting a bit confused. The premise of this set up was based upon you advising me, I tell you what's going on in the House, we fuck around occasionally, and we both do well out of it. Don't think that I don't know that you're getting paid for these stories you're selling. The point is, you didn't give a shit about me and I didn't give a shit about you. Maybe we should revert back to that."

"Oh."

"What do you think? Yeah? Good."

"If you want," he said, staring into the vortex as he swirled his ice and whiskey around in the glass. "I'm sorry that I gave you that impression."

"Great. I'm going to do a line now. And before you say anything, I never do that, no, but I am now because I'm bored shitless, thank you very much. I'm just going to Jeevas' place and I might kill him while I'm there."

He stands up immediately. "Don't. I'll go."

"You don't have to," I say, running to the door to get my coat and shoes. "Wait there. I'll be back in half an hour and then we'll get some trade on. Ok?"

"If you take cocaine now, it'll show up on your blood tests on Monday."

"Then I'll have the tests on Tuesday." I was putting my coat on. I was already outside in my mind.

* * *

Here I am in the New York Bar on my birthday. The skyline looks like a scene from a sci-fi film - all cyan and red lights from tower blocks and golden white from the streets below. It's raining quite heavily but from this height it looks like the thinnest veil of opaqueness, like hangover vision.

I haven't seen L since Friday, which may have some future impact on my climb, but I'm sure I can catch up. I can manage without him. I may have overreacted but there's a very good reason for that. The whole thing has been worrying me for a while and he deserves more than a gentle easing out. Neither of us can afford to develop lovely little feelings, especially me. I just had to remind him of who I am, and I don't think that he could like that person. Fuck them, yes. Use them, work with them, gain from them, but not like them. He could be dead for all I know.

My parents turn up with Sayu, Touta, and a various assortment of relatives who I don't particularly know or like, and take advantage of me and my tab. I wasn't supposed to pay, Mikami organised this whole thing and said he'd foot the bill, but he hasn't arrived or set a tab up. Then the politicians arrive.

All in all, I think that it's a success, since no one has started singing yet.

Mikami slams into my back because he's wearing shoes with no grip and he can't brake, he can only walk into things. "Hey, Yagami. Sorry I'm late." He shoves a gift into my chest quickly so he can take his coat off, which is soaked. Nothing seems breakable so I throw the shop-wrapped parcel on the table with the others. He has red rings of soreness around his eyes. Kicking a habit and being unemployed must be hard. He's got guts to be here though, I'll say that for him. Guts or a lack of shame.

"It's ok, glad you could make it," I say. "Everything ok?"

"Traffic," he explains vaguely. I see now that that's not the only reason. He's as jittery as a newborn fly.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Drink. Yeah, yeah. I'll get one, thanks. Who's that with Matsuda?"

"My sister, Sayu. Matsuda's wife." I prod for signs of life, "You met her at the concert."

"Oh, yeah. What does she see in him? She could do much better. Anyway, Happy Birthday," he says in a dull tone, and races to the bar.

"Thanks," I say to the space where he was. I notice Jeevas, and he's brought Naomi. Naomi, you idiot. If Penber could see you now, he'd die all over again.

"Hey, you old bastard, come here!" Jeevas says, clawing me into a brief, hate-filled bear hug. Just because it's my birthday he feels like he should be my best friend. If he  _was_ a bear, I would shoot him.

"Happy Birthday, Light," Naomi says quietly, smiles, and hands me a gift which looks exactly the same as Mikami's. At some point I'll be able to move from this spot if only people would stop turning up an hour late.

"Thanks, Naomi."

"Open bar! Brilliant!" Jeevas takes Naomi's arm roughly and takes her away like a tug with a cruise liner which has run out of fuel. I decide that that's it for welcoming fuckfaces to my party, and go back to check on my parents, Touta, and Sayu, who are the only ones sitting at a table far away from everyone else. They've all got food. It's like they just happen to be in the same room as a party of suits who are all standing around clutching drinks.

"Does anyone need another drink?" I ask. Shouldn't people be getting drinks for me? I feel like a bartender on commission. My father stands up and pulls back an empty chair with a calming smile.

"No, Light. Sit down," he says.

All the anxiety is mine, if only I could feel it. Sayu starts chirping at me while she's trying to figure out how to get the meat out of a lobster claw and is currently stirring it with a chopstick, and my mother starts talking about how nice the view is. This whole experience makes me reach for the bottle of wine and try to detach myself from this place as the cool liquid rushes down my throat. I am not here. This isn't happening.

"You have so many friends, Light!" Sayu tells me.

"Yeah, great party," Touta says. Of course he'd say that.

"Hello, Light. Happy Birthday." I turn and L is standing next to me, looking down from a great height, so I begin to stand also. "Don't get up," he says and pushes me back down again by my shoulder, "I was just dropping by to give you this." He holds out a parcel and I stare at it for a moment longer than I should before I take it. L's brought Mihael along, who's loitering awkwardly behind, looking towards the tower of similarly shaped and wrapped gifts on the centre table. Oh, yes. Yes, please bring your irritating, nosey little shit of an employee along as your plus one to my party. "Yagami-san, I'm not sure if you remember me?" L asks, reaching across in front of me to shake my father's hand, who chews and swallows some food quickly and wipes his hands on a napkin.

"I remember you. I didn't know that you knew Light."

"Slightly," he replies. "We play tennis sometimes." He bows to my mother, Sayu, and Touta, who all dip their heads mid-chew like cows eating grass. Someone has executed the pianist and put on some rubbish about an electric chapel, which makes both Touta and Sayu smile at each other and bounce in their chairs. The only good to come from this is that some of my older relatives are leaving.

"Take my seat, L. I'll get you and Mihael a drink," I say, for it's already been established that that is my role tonight. Mihael can sit on the floor for all I care.

"Very kind of you, but we're not staying. Nice to meet you all. Enjoy the party."

"Why can't you wear a suit like that?" Sayu asks Touta, who looks bemused and turns around to see the offending item leave. He's leaving. He's actually leaving.

"I won't be a minute," I say to no one in particular, and walk after L. He's been held up by someone from the Treasury, thank God. I reach Mihael first, who remains a good few feet away from his employer. "Mihael, yeah? Hi. Why don't you get yourself a drink? It's a free bar."

"Thanks but I..." he looks back towards L, who seems engrossed in conversation, and then longingly back at the bar. "Ok," he says and runs off like he's been let out of jail, which allows me to approach L.

"Yagami! Excellent party. Excellent," the man from the Treasury tells me. He has a napkin tucked into his collar as he stuffs sushi into his mouth. I can't remember his name.

"Good that you could make it. Lawliet, can I have a word?"

"I really have to go, actually. Call my office tomorrow maybe? Oh..." he stops as he realises that Mihael has had the gall to leave his side and is now laughing with Jeevas at the bar.

"I won't keep you long. Excuse me," I say to Mr Treasury as I pull L off to one side by his elbow. I feel like everyone is watching me, even though they're probably not. I'm the least important person in the room at the moment because it's my party, it's everyone for themselves. In a slightly risky move, I steer L towards the toilets. He realises and slows down, but as we're nearly there anyway and are, for the most part, hidden from view by a pillar and the corner of the bar, I drop my hand and grasp his, dragging him into what appears to be a baby's changing room. I lock the door.

"Where have you been?" I demand. I didn't realise that I was so pissed off.

"Why have you locked us inside a baby's changing room?"

"You didn't answer my calls." He's unrepentant when this is clearly all his fault. I give him several seconds to follow it up, but he doesn't. "And? Explanation, please?"

"I thought that we were going back to the old days of not giving a shit about each other. I reverted to it quite easily. I didn't give a shit about you and your phone calls." God, temperamental shitehawk.

"I said that we should cool it off a bit, not ignore each other."

"No, you said that we should go back to not giving a shit. That's exactly what you said, I remember it perfectly. You said something about 'storming the cotton gin' and how you're only ever ingratiating yourself with people, how we only play tennis, and how it didn't matter if I turned up here or not. Then you went out to take drugs."

"I didn't. I..."

"You really did. I know, it sounds bad and that's because it was, but that's what I've had to put up with. Did I misinterpret it at all?"

"I didn't go to Jeevas'. I waited in the lobby until you'd left."

He exhales heavily and rubs his forehead while I stare at the floor. No, I didn't go to Jeevas'. Why would I go there? I just sat in the guest lobby and waited for L to leave, which he did, ten minutes after I had. I saw his black coat sweep past reception from where I was sitting, then I went back upstairs and read the book that he'd left behind.

"Why did you do that?" he asks.

"I couldn't talk to you anymore, I guess. I don't know. I'd had too much to drink and you were getting too serious."

"You weren't drunk or high or out of your tree in any way," he says firmly. I sigh, exasperated, and I try to find it funny but his big eyes just make it completely pointless trying.

"It was just part of my brilliant personality then."

"You know what I think, Light? I think that you're right, it was getting a bit too serious for you. It's nothing to do with me or what I said, it's you. It's always you. And you didn't like it, so you put on a little show for me. That's what I think."

"Well, you're wrong."

My words sound like they're fighting through a laugh which isn't entirely appropriate. He cocks his head slightly to one side and sets his jaw in anger. "Maybe you  _are_ just a twat then," he says.

"Maybe I am."

"You know that I don't believe that. For some reason, you want me to think that you are."

"No. If you don't like some of the things I say and do, you can't excuse it with 'oh, he's just putting on a show for me because he's deranged.' I'm not deranged - that's just who I am. I'm the brightest, most promising young politician in Japan. I have no reason to make myself out to be something I'm not."

"Unless things get too serious for you. You want me to back off."

"Yes. No. I -"

"Pull your head from out of your arse and make up your fucking mind, Light. I haven't got the time or patience for messing around. I'm too old for this shit and frankly, so are you. You're not all that special, you're just like me, that's all." Well, that's insulting. I've had enough now. Why did I do this?

"Ok, that's fine. I know where I stand and that's all I needed to know." I turn to unlock the door but he moves around to stand in front of it and goes all angry prosecution on me.

"You dragged me in here for a reason and I want to know what it is."

"Er... a happy birthday blow job?"

"Give yourself one," he says, like he's disgusted by the idea. "I didn't know that there was a limit between us or that it's something that should be capped before it gets too 'serious', whatever that is. See, to me, you just flipped. It wasn't because of anything in particular, you just decided that you had to, and I think that points to something in your head rather than something that I did to offend you."

"I didn't see it happen," I say softly. I didn't give myself time to consider it first and feel stupid as soon as I say it. Going by his expression, he doesn't understand what I mean. I almost hoped that he would.

"See what happen?" he asks.

"Nothing."

"Because you've capped it. Put a cork right in that fucker, right? No more of that."

"You've lost me. Am I a bottle of wine or a mine shaft or something?"

"I'm saying that you're emotionally stunted and a scared little boy. I know because I'm the same. The difference is that I can accept who I am and you can't. Tell me what you think of me."

"God, L, I... I don't know. You look  _really_ nice in that suit." I'm more than a little bit tired of him now, and he is with me because he sighs, turns his head up to the ceiling, and closes his eyes. When he drops his head back down after a few seconds, it's pretty bad. I can tell that there's a line here and I'm dancing on it. He'd drop me and I won't allow it to happen, so I tag on a teaser in a desperate attempt at damage limitation. What it ends up sounding like is the equivalent of holding up a frying pan to protect yourself from a hail of bullets. "I like you. You're my friend."

"Yes, I'm your friend and I'm the only one you've got. What else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"No, it isn't. Listen, why don't you have a think about it and call me when you know. Get pissed and put it in an email. I don't care what you're like all the rest of the time. You can be as big a bastard as you want and I'll help you  _do_ whatever you want as long as I know what's underneath it. Don't bother me until you've got a really,  _really_  good answer, because I'm struggling to find a fuck to give at the moment. So yeah, do that. Happy Birthday." He turns around to open the door.

"Wait." I say, taking his hand.

"Light, we're going to suffocate in here if we stay any longer," he says to the door.

"You don't want to be my friend. You want to be my forever."

I say it like I've just realised it. I have just realised it. He turns back to face me, so I must have said something right. I don't know if what I've said is true and he doesn't seem to know either. For a minute, all there is is him and a fucking orchestra in my head with surround sound. It's bizarre and not totally unpleasant, it's just weird. But he ruins the whole thing, anyway.

"Forever? Are you drunk?"

Then there's a knock behind him and my eyes flicker away from his to look at the door with someone who's not welcome on the other side of it.

"Excuse me?" a woman's voice asks. "Is anyone in there? I need to change my baby."

L sighs and turns his head slightly to the side. "I'm afraid that you're stuck with it, madam. You can't swap it for another one. Kindly piss off."

"So?" I ask. "Do you?" And he looks at our feet instead.

"Forever is a very long time. Even I can't plan that far in advance."

"You know what I mean. I won't laugh, I promise. I'm taking this very seriously."

"Excuse me? Is this room in use?" A man's voice this time behind the door. The frustration of this whole thing forces me to rub the back of my neck and take a few slow steps around the tiny room.

L shouts at the door with a clipped annoyance. "We're changing our baby. It's very dirty. There's shit everywhere, so we might be some time."

"This is disgusting," the woman's voice says faintly to whoever she's with. The man, equally faintly now, tries to appease her.

"I'm sorry, madam. There's another changing room on the lower floor. I'll take you."

I'm staring in a huge mirror on the wall over some kind of raised, padded shelf thing with patent ducks on. Why would you want to look at yourself while you're cleaning your baby's dirty arse? Behind me I see L turn away from the door and smile sadly at the back of my head.

"Who'd bring a baby here at this time of night? The things should be banned," he says. I can see that he's trying to get his head together, and before he does I'd like to steal something from him.

"L, whatever you say, mean it. Make me believe it."

Seconds seems to pass very slowly and really I'd just like to get out of here and away from him before he answers me, but then he does.

"I want  _you_. Not just what you're willing to give me and not this facade you've created. Save it for the press."

Maybe this wasn't a good idea at all because I care about what he says and I can't because, apart from anything else, this was doomed from the start. I have my plan and it doesn't include setting up a home with a male lawyer. He knows all this. He tells me this himself, or rather, he jokes about it, but he knows how things are. I have to create an ideal little package for sale to the masses or I might as well bow out now. The most I could hope for is Deputy Prime Minister, and that's just not good enough. I need to be voted in.

"I'm not sure if I can do that," I say.

"That's ok, as long as it's there. Sometimes I'm not sure if you have any feelings at all because you're so wrapped up in trying to get somewhere. Why do you do it?"

"Because it's right."

"And where do I fit in with all this? I'm not an aspiration, am I? Am I just... useful to you in the same way I was a year or so ago?"

"No, of course you're not."

"You know, I think I'll wait. I'll give you time. Because if and when you feel what I feel, you won't be able to keep it to yourself. I'll wait for that."

"And what do you feel?"

"Oh no, it doesn't work that way," he laughs gently, shaking his head. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours, and I don't think you're ready for that yet."

"Wait, we're not talking about comparing dicks here, are we?" and he smiles back at me in the mirror.

"Lower the tone, Light," he says, opens the door, and leaves.

I could tell him what he wants to hear if I wanted to. It would be easy and would cut out all this arguing in tiny rooms. But it's a weakness though, isn't it? People make mistakes when they let themselves do stupid things like that. And where would that get me?

* * *

When I walk back into the bar, nobody notices. I go to my family who are now standing near the gifts table in a little pack. Touta spots me and trots up to meet me.

"Light, where have you been? People were asking."

"Sorry, I was mingling."

"Is that yet another euphemism I hear?" L asks from behind me. He's just turned up out of nowhere but has already found a glass of red wine and my cake. I thought he might have gone straight away.

"Lawliet-san, you're still here," my dad points out. "I thought you'd left."

"I couldn't find the exit," L explains. Touta who, along with Sayu, looks to be in the early stages of being pleasantly drunk, points towards the door which is plain to see.

"It's just over there. I'll show you," he says, nearly choking on his drink.

"Matsuda-san, you're like a SatNav for my soul. Well, Happy Birthday, Light. I hope that this year will bring you every success."

"Thanks. I see that you found the cake."

"But we haven't lit the candles and sung yet!" Sayu objects, horrified by the violated cake. L glances at the object on his plate and apologises.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's ok, L. We're not doing candles or singing. Sayu..." I say, shaking my head in despair.

"But it's your birthday!" she slurs.

"Yes, and I'm twenty seven."

My dad doesn't like the stupidity of our sibling conversation and turns to the least drunk person among us. "Lawliet-san, I wanted to congratulate you on your new position with the government. I read about it in the  _Times_."

While L is extremely polite back, Sayu grabs my arm and weighs me down on one side, trying to see my phone. "Liiiiiiiight, who are you texting?" she asks. I press send and put the phone in my pocket.

"A big man from Brazil, hot off the pampas. I want him to make violent, passionate love to me for my birthday." My face is the deadest, flattest pan in the East and I drink my wine like a good boy. Everyone looks at me. My father visibly cringes and Touta bursts out laughing. Yes, I'm hilarious.

"Light, are you drunk?" my mother asks, smiling. Obviously this is the go-to excuse for me.

"Not really," I say and finish my glass of wine as L's phone bleeps in his pocket.

"Right, I better go. Right. Yes. Nice to meet you all," L says awkwardly. I see his hand reach into his coat pocket to hold his phone in anticipation and he leaves without Mihael who's falling all over Jeevas in hysterics at the bar. Poor Naomi looks incredibly bored, sitting on a stool and gazing at her reflection in the mirror behind the spirit bottles. She could be a Manet painting.

"It's Misa, isn't it? You're texting Misa, you idiot," Sayu says. She scowls with disapproval and looks a bit like an angry meerkat. Then my mother rounds on me. It strikes me as odd that men seem far more understanding of Misa than women.

"Oh, Light. Don't tell me that you're seeing her again? I'm sorry, Light, but since we're all adults here and I need to get this off my chest; she's a slut and an absolute fool. Who'd do that to my boy?" She strokes my head. I never want to see my mother after a few drinks ever again.

A couple walk past us; the man has an ugly baby strapped to his stomach by some kind of paisley, makeshift sling. Does he have no self-respect? I can hear some of their conversation as they pass and the woman talks indignantly.

"And then he told me to piss off. Said he was changing his baby with someone else and that there was shit everywhere."

"Bit like when Yumi had that stomach bug, I guess."

"Well, there's no need to be so rude about it."

* * *

It's seven in the morning and I have opened my presents. I have seventeen bottles of whisky, fourteen bottles of aftershave, nine spa vouchers, seven toasters, three juicers, two copies of a book I've already read about the economy, a copper wok, two sets of weights, a rice cooker, a Masako Ando print, a few tea sets, and L in my bed. Not a bad haul really.

I am showered, cleanly shaven, and fresh as a daisy. Misa sent me a bunch of roses, a doll of herself, a black shirt, and a letter which I haven't got the inclination to read right now. Jeevas sent me some smack inside a birthday card. God, I hate Jeevas.

* * *

Politicians spend a lot of time loitering in the halls of the House before and after sittings, like seagulls on a small rock at sea. Unfortunately Jeevas is standing near me, talking about Naomi and how she keeps leaving bridal magazines around his flat, and I am swiftly losing the will to live. The joy I feel when I see L sweep through the crowds with intent is unquantifiable, although it's odd for him to be here. Obviously he's looking for me.

"Tennis time already?" Jeevas asks as L joins our party of two, but L ignores him, possibly under the impression that if he believes strongly enough that Jeevas does not exist, that perhaps he will fade away. His face is particularly serious. I wonder if this is the storm coming.

"Yagami, can I speak with you for a moment?" he asks, and I walk with him towards one side of the lobby which is fairly private. He whispers while looking straight ahead. You wouldn't think that we were talking at all. "Takada is dead."

"What?"

"Heart attack. The news isn't out yet but it'll break within the hour. You need to come up with a statement. The press will grab you outside, so make it good. Everyone else will look like idiots."

"Done. L, this is it, isn't it."

"It's yours. Take it."

"Ours."

"I appreciate the sentiment but this is down to you now. I'm just giving you a heads up so you can make the best impression. Call The Lady when it's time. She appreciates sympathetic gestures, you know how she was fond of him. And don't forget to mention his wife and daughters to the press."

"I know. I know."

"And yes, this could be the end."

"Not yet." But God, it's close. Not that long ago, I was just Mikami's flunky in Transport. Now I see heaven. There's no trace of pain and misfortune in it, not for me. My life is a rose garden. I should be content with it but I want better. For everyone else, of course. I'm nice like that.

L leaves, gone in seconds through revolving doors. All of this shouldn't be a surprise, but it hits me as it always does with confirmation. I realise that I'm standing there staring after L's path as Jeevas sidles up to me. I blink and the shaking energy of winning dissipates.

"You and Lawliet seem very friendly," he says, as slimy as a waiter after a double shift. "Gotta say, I didn't think you'd be best friends. I thought he'd destroy you."

"Like he did you, you mean? Unlike you, Jeevas, my accounts are beyond reproach. I'm beyond reproach. And we're not especially close, he was just reminding me that we have a doubles match tomorrow. I'd consider him a friend though, yes."

"But, y'know, do you want to be associated with him?" he says, leaning on the pillar while scratching his head. "If you hang out with fags then -"

"What is wrong with you?" I shout. People turn to look at us, probably shocked to find I, oh so calm and unflustered Yagami of Education, am raising my voice at a moron in this sacred space. I want him to die. "What does that matter? Come over here." I walk with him to one side, but not far away enough to give us complete privacy. In fact, I'm counting on us having no privacy whatsoever. He stays close, like he's chained to me somehow, and has a look of a puppy who's just shat all over his own bed. "You will not get far if you're that bigoted," I tell him. "I don't mean career-wise, I mean at life."

"Christ, cool the fuck down!" he says. Is he actually  _patting_  me on the shoulder? Yes, he's actually patting me on the shoulder. "I'm just pointing out that if you're best buds or something then people might talk, that's all. I didn't say there was anything wrong with him being an arse pirate."

"A  _what_? Jeevas. Just when I think that you couldn't be any more of a twat than you are, you surprise me with new depths. Was there no doctor in your village? Did you mother have no choice but to give birth to you?"

His face suddenly sets with fury. "You know what? You have serious anger issues. I think you need some hard and intensive therapy. I'm just trying to give you some friendly advice. I watched  _Queer As Folk_  back in the day, I've nothing against poofters, seriously."

"You're offensive. Knock that on the head or I'll have to recommend you for a discrimination in the workplace course, ok? How do you think that would look on your fucking résumé?"

"Woah, ok! God, you're so serious nowadays."

"Don't talk to me, Jeevas. You're a disgrace to the party."

I leave him standing there. People heard and they're talking about it now, I can see them. I must look appropriately disgusted as I walk through the lobby. Jeevas has just broken the cardinal rule. Outwardly everyone must appear to be accepting of all, even if the hypocrisy of this building means that reality is different. Smear campaigns must be committed by silent assassins, and Jeevas is incapable of such a thing. I'm so glad I wore these shoes today, the soles make my step echo and draws more attention to me and the man I left standing there.

* * *

Forty minutes later and the first reports of Takada's death break on the news. From one of the smaller conference rooms, I hear the roar of people talking at the same time, the first sign of a crisis. I straighten my tie, grab my briefcase, and head back to the lobby, through the crowd. They're all hiding from the press who have gathered outside. No one knows what to do and they're too terrified to leave. Someone has to make a statement to give some basic indication of what this means and how we should all feel. They must speak for the House and the country. I offer to call The Lady, since no one else does, as I expected. I offer my condolences and can hear her choke, like I'm gripping her throat tightly as she speaks. She appreciates 'my kindness'. My kindness. No one else has thought to call her. I ask if there's anything that I can do. Does she want me to make a statement to the press? The thought of the press obviously hadn't occurred to her. I emphasise the situation by saying how large the crowd is outside and that no one is able to leave the building. The first to do so will be expected to speak or they'll be hounded to death. She accepts my offer gratefully. 'But can you do it?' she says. 'What experience do you have?' I assure her that I won't mess it up. And I don't. On live television my face and voice tell of devastation, but hope and legacies. All the things you want to hear. I see myself replayed as the news gets repeated and repeated because there is nothing else remotely interesting to report. Nothing like the death of an old stalwart of politics, familiar to everyone, respected even by the opposition simply for retaining a place here for so long. I'm shown getting into my car. I am now the face; the stoic, brave man who told the country what they deserve to know.

L has a key to my apartment now. He's thinking of buying one of the other apartments in my building as a front so we don't have to be so careful about how often he can visit. His place is out of town and inconvenient for me.

"Didn't you do well?" he says, standing in the doorway of my lounge. Three quarter length coat, charcoal suit, inoffensive tie, briefcase in hand. God, we all look the same.

"Do you think so?" I ask lazily, turning my head towards him. I smile, he smiles. He really did underestimate me, didn't he? I turn back to my book and he dumps his case and coat on the kitchen counter.

"Come on, that was... even I'm surprised. You made it sound like we lost a bastion. It was so well done, Light."

"Thanks." I turn a page. He takes off his tie and unbuttons the collar of his shirt.

"You should see the news."

"I saw a bit." I'm recording SakuraTV actually, but he doesn't need to know that. L looks a little frightened of me somehow. I really have surprised him, but then, I had time for this. This came at just the right moment for me. Thank you, Takada, and your blessed knackered heart. Play golf in the sky forever. L sits next to me, puts one hand up my t-shirt and strokes my bare leg with the other. I have to admit, I don't look as impressive as I should, considering. Showered, damp hair, an old t-shirt, shorts, and it's only five o'clock. I look like I'm unemployed and I don't care. "I'm tired now though, L. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. This is a great day for you. A bad one for Takada, but who gives a shit? I'm proud of you."

Proud? What right do you have to be proud of me? I am not your creation. I make myself. I destroy and create.


	5. And What You Give Is What You Get

The Lady knows my name and remembers it. She holds back because she knows, we all know, that I'm the axe about to swing at her neck. It must be difficult sitting at the same table as your successor, so she keeps me at a friendly distance. I'm Head of the Foreign Affairs now, skipping across this farcical racecourse and completely missing out hurdles which I had fully expected to jump. After Takada's death and my little speech, my popularity went off the scale and I hardly had to campaign due to pressure within the House that I was the natural choice for Foreign, like I'm Takada the younger. There's no real competition but I do have two new official residences on behalf of the State, which is nice. My annual income is the currently the highest in Parliament, raised by from directorships, consultancy, after-dinner speeches, and parliamentary salary.

My aim is to sleep for only four hours a night like The Lady. I want to live and breathe my office as the leading personage in the country with the most power. The Lady taught us that this position need not be a puppet job, but she's growing old and has made some bad choices based on stubborn old school beliefs and the advice of idiots. This government, the whole parliament in fact, is populated by idiots and I feel alone here. Even though Mikami accepted the shackles of politics by not caring, I miss his cynicism sometimes. He'd always wink slyly at me in The House when a perfectly good idea was shot down by the Treasury in favour of a perfectly awful idea which was slightly less expensive. He'd laugh at the boos and jeers of the benches and when the opposition took the term 'opposition' a little too seriously. This country is past being on its way out, it's out the door and half-way down the street. But other countries have come back from worse. I'm not sure what I'm waiting for really, but I'll know when it's time.

I'm packing for my trip overseas tomorrow. No one seems to know exactly why I'm going apart from to shake hands with the Foreign Secretary of the United States and to laugh with him through an interpreter, but I'm going. My packing was all going so well until the knock on the door. I consider not answering, but the knocks are persistent and I can't ignore it. As I open the door, Mikami pushes in, dripping water on the floor and shuffling off his shoes like I'm not even here. He looks awful, like getting through a day is the equivalent to a year in the Vietnam War to him. His coat has a hole on the lapel, a cigarette burn on his sleeve, and he's soaking wet. This is ludicrous.

"Nice to see you," I say, instead of saying how my house is not somewhere you can just drop into if you're in the area when the weather's bad. "Can I get you a drink?" I look him over again. "I'll get you a drink."

"Thanks. Bring the bottle and all his friends," he replies. I'm sure that he'd love me to bring the bottle but if I do then he'll never leave. I drift sadly to the kitchen to make him a drink and text L while I'm at it. 'Mikami's here. Please bring me a noose.' Mikami has flopped into one of my chairs in the meantime and his entire body heaves with the relief of seeing the glass which I place in front of him. Once the glass is safely in his hand, he gushes forth. "You have to help me, Yagami. I'm out of money. I'm going to lose my house, everything. I'm practically bankrupt. The only good thing is that Shiori wants a divorce."

I stand there trying to care and let the words sink in before I take a seat next to him. Mikami's no good for loans. I'll never see this money again and it'll probably all just go up his nose, anyway. "How much do you need?" I ask.

"Thanks but it's more than that," he says, like he's a cryptic crossword. I can't bring myself to say anything, just hope that he follows it up without me having to waste my breath by verbally prodding him through. "I'm not stupid," he continues eventually, "I know that The Lady's on her way out and that you'll probably get leadership. Even if you don't, you'll still have influence and I need my job back."

"Hey, I wouldn't agree with any of that. What makes you think The Lady is on her way out?"

"I know some things. Valuable information."

Ok. I drink my vodka. Here we are in  _Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy_ territory again. Mikami has spoken of 'valuable information' in the past. He spoke about it often when I worked as his deputy and I soon worked out that he had none but that it sounded impressive. I wonder if I've packed a tie for every occasion on this trip.

"Listen," Mikami sniffs, "if I tell you, you have to promise me that you'll help me. I would if it was the other way around."

I nearly snort into my glass but manage to recover. "I'll have to see what I can do. It might be a bit soon to bring you in again. I'd give it another six months at least, and even then you won't be able to have Health again, or anything like it. I might be able to get you in my department but the post will be considerably less than what you had before. I'm sorry."

"That's fine. That's great. Anything with a wage."

"Yeah, but the wage will be a lot less than what you're used to as well. I might be able to create an aide position for you. I'll have to look into it and speak to PR to see what they can do about your public image." I'm determined not to commit to anything, ever. I might speak to people, but L will definitely say no. I might be able to get him a position somewhere, someday, and I might be his friend if it'll be beneficial to me, which I doubt, but I'm not promising anything.

"Thanks, Yagami. I knew that I could count on you. Friends for fucking life, yeah?" he says, raising his glass and then downing the lot. He's not even letting this stuff touch the sides. What a waste. I might as well have brought in a bottle of bleach.

"Did you want ice in that?" I ask as he pours himself another glass.

"No. Nice place by the way. Is that a Cy Twombly?" He points his drink towards the painting. I can't bring myself to answer that. One good thing about Mikami is that you never need a coaster when he's around; his glass always stays in his hand like it's part of him. He is, however, lighting a cigarette. I have a horrible feeling that he thinks that my Holmegaard glass ashtray is actually there to be used.

"So, what's this information?" I ask, trying to hurry him on and out before he turns this place into an opium den. He smiles at my Cy Twombly before turning to me.

"Well, this is from Jeevas. Wait, wait, I know what you're thinking, but listen. The Lady's been meeting with this oil man from fuck knows where. One of these unpronounceable, godforsaken, bombed from all sides, war torn places in the Middle East. Looks like they're setting up some deal for The Lady to give money and guns to the militant groups there. She's in it with a couple of other countries, apparently. In return, when the government there is beaten, she'll have access to an oil field there or something."

"God," I breathe out like a rushed orgasm. It's finally arrived, but I'm surprised at my disappointment in The Lady. Never mind, I'll get over it. I have three options now; let her ride out her inevitable course, bring this up and destroy her, or... I almost want to save her. I want her to have a legacy which will be all but obliterated by these failing years. I cough to open my throat again. "How does Jeevas know about this?"

"He was with her as some kind of escort," he says. "I don't know, to protect her purity? He was probably just there as a driver so she didn't have to hire a someone. She obviously trusts Jeevas, I've no idea why. He overheard some of their talks and they've been going on for months. The first shipment of arms was sent last week."

I knew that I should keep Jeevas close for some reason. If only he didn't make it such an unpleasant experience to be in the same room as him. "But there's no proof of this, no minutes of the meetings?" I ask.

"Of course not, Yagami, it's completely off the books. It's more like a personal endeavour. They meet for dinner in some rented place outside of the city."

"So all we're going on is Jeevas' word?"

"He couldn't make something like this up if he tried. He was off his head. He somehow managed to propose to Naomi by accident, she said yes, and he turned up at mine to drown his sorrows. We were talking about the House and The Lady and then he came out with all this. I don't think he remembers telling me. Hey, you had Naomi, didn't you? What's she like?"

"I didn't 'have' her. She participated."

"Yeah, yeah, and all that politically correct shit. Well?"

"She deserves better than to hitch her wagon to Jeevas."

"Agreed."

"So, that's it then? That's all you have on The Lady?"

"You can do something with this, can't you?" he asks earnestly.

"I'll look into it," I say, trying to sound appropriately cynical. I don't want Mikami to get too hopeful. "I'll try to substantiate it, at any rate."

"Knew you could. I wouldn't know where to start now since most of my contacts have blown me off. So, yeah, you'll deal with this?"

"I said that I'll look into it, Mikami. If it's true then it's a matter of national or even global importance if other countries are involved." I stand and take the bottle back to the kitchen so even Mikami will know that it's time for him to go. L's sent me a message back telling me not to hang myself and that he'll see me tomorrow. Shit. Oh well, I suppose that this can wait a few more hours. Mikami doesn't speak again until I return and sit in the chair opposite him.

"This will see you in," he says to himself, following it up with a regretful laugh. He must be thinking of the unfairness of it. If only he'd hung in a little longer then he might have been the one using this, not me. What did L say to me once? Oh, yes. A ladder in a roomful of snakes. Mikami leans back and smiles at me, trying to regain his usual joie de vivre. "So, who knew? Prime Minister fucking Yagami. And to think that you were my deputy a few years ago. I remember the first time I saw you in the House. I didn't realise."

"It's too early to say things like that," I mutter. My lack of enthusiasm seems to dent his good humour and make him thoughtful instead.

"I fucked up, didn't I. Whatever you do, do it well, that's what I always say. Fucking up included." He takes another shot of vodka. This is almost depressing.

"Mikami, if this works out then I'll bring you back into the House. You know that. I need people I can trust around me," I tell him with a smile. Or people I don't trust. I need to watch these things.

"Thank you. That means a lot," he nods.

"It's nothing. Really." There's ash on my table and I can't think. I can't think. He needs to get out of here.

"Yeah, it is," he says quietly, staring into his near empty glass. "You don't have to, I know. I do these things, I don't know why. I wanted to leave my mark, and now my mark will be a blood spatter at the bottom of a cliff. Then the tide will come in and even that will be gone. It's my mother's fault."

God, that excuse is so overused by practically every fuck up in the House. I watch him drain his glass with all the gusto of a raging alcoholic after making a semi-profound statement. All I know is that his mother died in an accident when he was a child, from what Penber told me. Maybe he blames her for dying? Who gives a shit. I never thought of Mikami contemplating anything below the epidermis of life. He always struck me as someone who would either pull himself together, never taking life entirely seriously, or simply fade away and everyone would wonder what happened to him for all of five minutes at a get together fifty years from now.

He glances at me and must find what he thinks is my concerned expression to be amusing, maybe realises what he's said, stands and buttons up his coat again. "Ha! Don't worry, Yagami, I'll be ok. Maybe we could have a drink sometime? I'll put it on my tab."

* * *

I wanted to speak with L before I left for the airport today but my phone calls go unanswered. The best I get is a text message telling me to fuck off and leave him alone. I send him one back reminding him that I am fucking off to another country this afternoon, and leave it at that. An hour or so later, the door to my office opens suddenly and hits the wall with force as L strides in, interrupting me in the middle of a very important comment. We don't work in the same building anymore, so the thought of him walking from his building to mine in the state he's in is rather frightening to me. I watch him pace my room for a few seconds before he speaks.

"Tell me why I thought it was a good idea to work here," he demands.

"I'm in the middle of a phone conference."

"That's not a reason, Jesus fuck, Light, come on, put some effort in," he rants before noticing the conference phone in front of me. "Oh. Put them on hold," he tells me, pressing the hold button for me. Then he notices my PA who was until recently taking notes. "And you, you can fuck off, love. Go on, out. Get some hairspray on that nest of yours or powder your fucking nose or something," he says, practically chasing her out of the room, slams the door, and walks back towards me. His eyes are huge - like something that an Olympian would throw - and he generally looks physically crumpled by the burden of living. "I have to tell you this because these are probably my last hours outside of a prison cell. I'm going to find that twat in Agriculture and I'm going to push live grenades up his arse until you can see them under his skin. Then I'm going to take him to the circus and make an elephant stand on him. I'm  _this_  close, Light. LIGHT!" He runs towards me and covers the hold button with his hand as I attempt to reconnect my call.

"L, I really -"

"For someone who's so overeducated that it's surprising that you don't have 'Baudelaire woz ere' tattooed on your dick, you're being very, very,  _very_  stupid. This is not a moment for you to be dismissive. I am a man who has been pushed off the edge mentally, and now I'm in your office. I'm not joking here, I could be turned by a terrorist group. They'd only have to give me a balaclava and an M15 and I'd be all theirs."

"But -"

"No, no, no, no, you have to shut your face because I'm feeling more than a little disillusioned right now. It's moments like this when I wonder why I didn't just stay in the fucking womb. This is  _The Towering Inferno_  of legal disasters, right? I look around, I see lawsuits. Everywhere. Even this carpet looks questionable. I expected to have to clean up some PR nightmares but this place is like one of those Hieronymus Bosch paintings. I can't stand politicians. First, I have to block some unflattering photos of The Lady on holiday from being printed, then I had to sack some goon in Work and Pensions, but nicely. How do you sack someone nicely? And that was yesterday. Last night, I got word through that some idiots were threatening to sell a story to  _The Times_  about that fuckwit in Agriculture. I can't actually say his name because I hate him so much. You know him."

"Kitamura."

" _Christ_ , don't say his name like that, I'm fucking allergic!" he shouts, pacing again and raking his hands through his hair distractedly. I get him a drink because, early in the day as it is, he looks like an expectant father on a maternity ward. "But yes, him," he continues, taking the drink I offer on his round trip. "Kita... Urgh. He is insane. I don't mean quirky and affable, I mean that he needs a straitjacket and a lot of medication. Turns out that he's been going to some massage parlour or some shack somewhere which probably has corrugated steel on the roof. And no, it's not a place of good repute. So I've spent all night and most of this morning trying track these people down and make this go away before a lot of 'masseurs' go to the press. I should just ring it in myself but I can't now because I've been asked to get rid of the problem. And you know what? Just now, he comes in and says, 'Lawliet, my old friend, my old chum, while you're at it, could you deal with this little problem for me?' No, of course I don't mind. I have nothing else to do. I'll just plug myself into the mains and recharge while I spend twenty-four hours straight sweeping your mistakes under the fucking rug. Listen to this, his wife bribed a policeman to let her off for a shitload of driving offences, including driving under the influence, and I'm expected to sort this out. What am I, a one man miracle? Who cares about Agriculture, anyway? They might as well hire the scarecrow from the  _Wizard of Oz_ because nobody actually  _cares_! It's just combine harvesters, isn't it?"

It's hard to take my eyes off him. It's like finding yourself in a room with a man-eating wolf with rabies which has been darted several times and is really pissed off about it. "I'm in a phone conference," I repeat.

"You said that," he says. "So, I suggest that maybe, just maybe, she should just take the fall, but no, can't have that. Our dear Agriculture muck spreader minister's not so excellent reputation will be tarnished by his choice in a wife. Well, she's taking the fall. My job description does not cover her unless The Lady says so, and she's on holiday, so Agriculture and his wife are royally fucked. Can you get me a coffee? And sugar. No, just bring me a sugar bowl and put some petrol in it."

"L, I'm in a-"

"Yes, I know, a phone conference and they're on hold." He walks over and presses the end call button. "Ooops, they're not even on hold anymore. Was it important? I hope not."

"That was important!" I shout, and desperately try to reconnect the call.

"Oh dear, whatever will we do? Let's tear our hair out. Let's panic for a moment and make things that don't matter seem really important. Coffee is important.  _I_  am fucking important," he tells me.

"I don't think you need any more coffee, I can see it swishing behind your eyeballs. Why did Mihael let you roam free like this?"

"He's busy with the masseurs. They're all illegal immigrants so they can shut the fuck up or they can get back on their little raft made from coke cans and fuck off back to Tuva-fucking-lu or wherever they came from. I'm better than this. I am  _so_  much better than this, but I thought it'd be fun, you know? Anyway, you. You're taking the afternoon off because I'm taking charge of this situation. What are you doing?"

"I'm ringing them back."

"No you're not. You have to look after me, Light. I'm feeling very vulnerable and need some homoeroticism to ease my urge to kill. What have you done to your hair? This is far too tidy, we have to mess it up a bit.  _God_ , I hate your trousers."

"L, if you're planning on dropping by for whatever you have in mind, which, by the way, I can't accommodate right now, I'd appreciate it if you'd call first. Then I will, of course, drop everything and run to you with my pants around my ankles."

"I sense just a smidge of sarcasm there," he says, calming quickly and throwing himself into a chair. "Never let it be said that I'm not sensitive to these subtleties. Are you in business mode by any chance?"

"Let's see, it's one thirty... so yeah."

"I've finished work," he tells me proudly, bouncing his leg feverishly over the other.

"How?" I ask. "I got the impression that you'd be working until the end of time."

"I pulled an all-nighter, that's how. And Agriculture and his wife can go to hell on a toboggan. Didn't you notice the way I wasn't with you last night?"

"I noticed. My home became a spa retreat to me for the night and I actually managed to pack. Now, excuse me, but I have to finish this conference."

"Pick up that phone and I will eviscerate you."

"You couldn't eviscerate a piece of cod. Seriously, you look like you've been dead for three months."

"I know that's a complete lie. I'm 98% certain that... well, I'm bloody certain that it's a lie. My tiredness and seething anger must only make me more attractive because, wait, it gets better. Along with this tidal wave of farmyard slurry that I have had to deal with, it turns out that my receptionist is in love with me. She cornered me, opened her coat, nothing underneath. It was horrifying. Now I'm going to have to sack her nicely."

"When did you get a receptionist? What about Mihael?" I ask.

"Mihael can't do everything," he laughs as he crosses his arms. I'm yet to figure out exactly what Mihael does apart from follow L around, but who am I to comment? "It's very disappointing really because I went to great trouble to get her," he carries on. "Headhunted her from Ajibana's law firm, actually. Mostly because I hate them, but she was supposed to be good. She is good, but she's also visually molested me."

"I wish that I had an opinion on this traumatic event but it'll have to wait until later," I say, although realistically I don't see that happening unless I call security. I'm already making plans of finishing my conference on the flight and explaining how my office was invaded by some anarchists. I'm sure that happens all the time.

"No, it won't wait until later. Get your coat," he says, standing to get my coat for me, throwing it at my desk, which it misses.

"L, I have to finish up here and then get to the airport."

"I know, and I'm very annoyed about that too."

"Do me a favour and be annoyed somewhere else for fifteen minutes while I sort out this clusterfuck conference."

"I'll wait here. Make it quick," he says, sitting down again. He taps the armrests agitatedly with his fingertips and looks up into my staring face. "What? I won't say a word."

I wonder whether this is the best time, but my time is at a premium right now. I might send him a memo in case he forgets because he's probably not taking in much information at the moment. "Actually, they can wait. I have to talk to you about something."

"Really? Oh, I'm so glad I decided to drop by. You're going to ask me for something, aren't you? If it involves something sexually violent then you'll probably get it."

"The Lady has been up to something."

"Something sexually violent?"

"No. Dodgy dealings. I need you to look into it for me while I'm away."

"The Lady? Dodgy? Tell me all about it."

"Mikami spilled his guts to me and -"

"I told you to cut ties with him. He's no good for your image," he interjects. "Besides, he's very good-looking."

"When you've finished wanking off over Mikami, can I draw your attention to this prime example of why I never listen to you? He wants me to help him in return for a snippet, vague as it was. Jeevas overheard something but doesn't quite realise what it means. The Lady has been in talks with an oil magnate. She's selling arms to some militant groups abroad in order to have access to their oil fields. There were no minutes taken of these meetings, apparently it was all social. I need you to find something to expose it while I'm out of the country so I won't be linked to it. I can't start an accusation process without proof."

L leans back in the chair like a mad king and mulls it over. He's obviously stumped at the Jeevas connection as much as I am, but even so, it has a ring of truth to it. "Even The Lady falls," he says. "I suppose that we can conclude that this experiment with democracy and free speech has failed."

"There must be something, right?"

"It depends how good she is at hiding her tracks. In my experience, she's pretty good. So, apart from Mikami and Jeevas, does anyone else know about this?"

"No one. As I say, Jeevas doesn't know what it means."

"What did he say exactly? At the moment it sounds like he said that she spoke to an oil magnate and your mind went into overdrive."

"Jeevas heard bits of the conversation. They're definitely in talks for providing arms and finance to these groups in return for siphoning oil for nothing when the government is overthrown. Mikami knows that The Lady's on her way out and that I'm next up for leader, so he's trying to make himself useful in return for a job in the government."

"This all comes from Jeevas though," L emphasises annoyingly, wagging a lazy finger at me.

"I know it's fucking Jeevas but just look into it, ok? Apparently these secret talks have gone on for months and some arms were shipped last week. You have to be able to trace it. She'll be impeached, I'll be voted in as leader, and maybe we can avoid a general election."

"Yes, Light, because you know that that's a very strong possibility. I would even say that it's a certainty because what The Lady does reflects on the entire party. I don't think that even you can save it."

"If I'm seen to cast out every trace of corruption and rebuild the party, of course I can."

"The opposition won't have it."

"The opposition are a bunch of clowns at a clown contest and they won't know what to do or what to expect. We act before they have a chance to put together some argument which will stand. Also, when this is leaked to the press, it could be implied that the some of their members were involved to line their own bank accounts. Make this as dirty as you possibly can, whether it's true or not. Just make the way clear for me." I rush the words out because I'm essentially ordering him to do something and he doesn't take orders with a smile. As it happens, he seems to accept my logic, or is at least slightly impressed that I've heard of something so explosive which has apparently gone under his radar completely.

"I do love the way your mind works," he says. "Corruption to destroy corruption."

"So, you'll do it then?" I ask.

"You know me and unearthing secrets, scratching the surfaces, discarding something unworthy. I'm intrigued. Of course I'll do it. And you're so sure that you can handle the fallout?" He smiles at me and I smile back.

"Politics is a world within a world and I will destroy the rot from the inside. They never saw me coming."

"Oh, Light, take me," he exhales dramatically, sprawls back in the chair and laughs.

"I don't know," I wonder, looking at my watch. "Taking didn't factor into my itinerary for the day."

"Shift some things around, would you?" he says, staring at the ceiling like his eyes are frozen. "I'm like one of Pavlov's fucking dogs here just from the sound of your voice, and after two years too, which I think is some kind of record. It's so unfortunate that I'm spent. Will it do if I'm just here instead of contributing in any physical or mental capacity?"

"Boring," I sigh.

"You'll find this out for yourself but when you hit thirty-five you tend to lose stamina and take up electric blankets and going to garden centres instead."

* * *

After a week of nothing but sun, shaking hands, smiling, and talking through interpreters, Japan welcomed me back with the worst weather for years. The wind and rain strips the new leaves from the trees to whip around me. Me and everyone else who walks in a straight line to wherever they're going, and wherever after that, on grey afternoons, forever. I've slept for four hours or less a night for a week, but not entirely voluntarily. Patience is killing me.

Climbing the stairs of the car park to the third floor and back to my car, I notice a large bundle in the stairwell. As I get closer, I see that it's a man - his form at odds with the brutalist surroundings. I stop, more interested in the people walking around him as if he's just some refuse in their way. Some movement catches my eye and I see him reach a hand towards me. He wants me to help him. Maybe I'm the first person to actually see him for a long time, as he's obviously homeless; his coat is ragged at the edges against the concrete. He clasps his other hand to his forehead and the rich, dark blood oozes between his fingers. I see the dirt ingrained into the skin of his outstretched palm as people pass in the space between us. He disgusts me. His expression changes, not with anger, but sad realisation, and I reach into my coat slowly, pull out my phone, and take a photo of him with his hand hanging limply toward me. I've captured his shocked, broken face.

"I'll call for an ambulance," I say clinically and walk past him, just like everyone else.

When my car comes into sight, the tiredness hits me again like a wave and I start rooting through my pocket for the key. I can't find the key. I can't quite believe it, so I stop next to my car to check every pocket on me. It's not there. Fuck. This catastrophe threatens to ruin my entire day, which hasn't been particularly brilliant, anyway, but then my car door opens. I bend down suspiciously to see who or what is inside.

"I was getting sick of waiting for you," L says from the passenger side. "I was thinking of leaving this thing with all the doors open and the key in ignition."

"You stole my keys?"

"I didn't steal them, Light. I wandered into your office while you were in the House and the keys happened to be in your coat pocket when my hand found itself there. They just leapt into my hand really."

"You broke into my office and stole my keys?"

"Ok, I stole your keys. You have them back. Get in and drive already," he says moodily. I fall into the driver's seat. What are these fucking sweet wrappers doing everywhere?

"What's wrong with your car?" I ask as I start the engine.

"It's in for a service."

He's rather brusque, I think. I don't know what's wrong with him, it's not like I stole  _his_  car keys. Maybe he thought that I'd throw myself at him after a week apart. "You could have got a taxi," I suggest, equally brusquely.

"I don't like taxis," he explains. "There's always the faint smell of vomit on the back seats. And hello. How was America?"

"Very American."

"That's surprising. Oh, what's that you say? 'Fine, thanks. How are you, L? I missed you like Bambi missed his mother?' Well, I'm pissed off actually. Someone went abroad for a week and did I hear a word from him? No. No, I did not. I bet he didn't even bring me back a present. But enough about me. Your Beatles CD skips like a bitch, by the way."

"I thought that you'd call me if you made some progress, so I'm guessing that you don't know what progress means. And the CD's not mine. It was in the car when I picked it up."

"I couldn't really picture you chugging along to it. The thought that you'd actually developed some musical taste made me catatonic for a moment there. Glad we've cleared that little mystery up."

"L, you talk too loud and too much. I'm going to have to ignore you while I drive."

"Oh, the dreaded jet lag has you, I see. Turn right here."

"Why?"

"I want a cherry coke."

"You're joking."

"No. It's distilled from the tears of babies who live in the shadow of the Appalachian mountains."

"Fuck off. I'm going home and I'm going to bed."

"Oh, excellent idea."

"To sleep," I clarify. "Please stop talking. Do you have an aspirin?"

"No, but I have a chocolate mint drop and that's just as good. Here. So, how are you? You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"Would you like to hear some news? I have a range on a scale of boring but let's start with my favourite story of the week. Misa Amane tried to commit suicide onstage. Unfortunately, someone stepped in."

"Oh God."

"I would have demanded my money back if I'd been in the audience because she wasn't allowed to follow through. Upshot is, she's in some institution making wicker baskets as we speak. How does it feel to have contributed to your ex-girlfriend's mental collapse?"

"Shut up, L."

"Gladly."

He does, bizarrely. After a few moments of awkwardness, I offer him an olive branch. "Look in my briefcase," I tell him.

"Le sac magique!" he says, grabbing it and popping open the locks. "Oh, you didn't forget, thanks! Contraband!"

"Hmmm... I'd say it was nothing but I felt like a right twat smuggling that lot through customs."

"I bet," he mumbles and puts on the CD player, skipping through tracks until he settles on some mournful moaning. 'Half of what I say is meaningless.' He's right there. What is this shite? I turn it off.

"That's my favourite song you've just switched off. I've helped send people to prison for less," he says, staring ahead at the road. I don't reply and after a few minutes of the silence I would pay for, he talks again. "I have to speak to you."

"Go on," I tell him.

"Not here. Drive faster."

I drive to the speed limit. A speeding ticket wouldn't look good for me. I can tell that my strict adherence to the law is infuriating him, judging by his sighs. I'm not sure if I should be driving really; everything seems further away than it should be and my reactions are slow. My mind drifts back to the stairwell. "Did you see that guy on the stairs in the car park?" I ask.

"Hmmm? What guy?" he replies, looking out the window.

"Some homeless guy. He'd fallen or something. I said that I'd call an ambulance."

"Oh. He was probably drunk, they normally are. He's not the electorate, so don't worry about it." He's completely uninterested and puts the CD back on and the same dismal song. I let him play it this time as he stares out of the window or at the rain streaming down it. "I didn't notice him," he mumbles dreamily. "Maybe he wasn't there when I was."

"You just didn't see him."

"That's very likely. Did you call him an ambulance?"

"No."

* * *

Back at my apartment, I'm torn between falling into bed and wanting to know what L has to tell me. I'll know by the first few sentences whether it's actually important or not, and if it's not, then I'll fall into bed. I wonder if he's being so quiet for my benefit. That's not very like him if that is the reason.

"So?" I ask, dumping my cases by the door. L, of course, never offered to help me, but carried his American chocolate which I brought back for him.

"Well, it looks like the moment has arrived," he says, looking out of the window at the evening sky like it's stunned him. Just one window for another.

"What moment?"

"I would make sure that all your suits are pressed. You might be needing them shortly."

"What is it? I can't stand your verbal drumroll of suspense." I hate him right now and he probably knows it because I'm past trying to hide it. He probably hates me too. This isn't the happiest reunion. I actually want him to leave in the same way that I wanted Mikami to leave a week ago. A nerve twitches under my eye and I press my hand to it to try and stop it throbbing. "Just say what you have to say because I really have to get some sleep."

"Ok, it seems that you were right. There's evidence that, if tweaked, would speak of a collusion between The Lady and our good friend, J.R. Fucking Ewing, and it will surface if I want it to. Secret treaties are the way of getting rid of a leader and bringing an election forward, so you should just be prepared."

My exhaustion dissipates like a passing shower. I'd lost hope that he'd actually find something since I'd basically sent him on the investigative equivalent of looking for flower fairies. It's like every fibre of me is on fire from the shock of the news. "Ha! God, it's like I wrote the script to this. You have evidence? Wait, what do you mean, it 'may surface' if you want it to?

"I want to be sure of your intentions here."

I rush towards him, blocking his view of the sky, and take his face in my hands. He drops what he's carrying. "You know my intentions!" I tell him. "Vote of no confidence, threat of impeachment. She'll have no choice but to go. The election will be brought forward and I'll be voted in as leader and win. I cannot lose this. God, L, I love you! You can't imagine how much this means to me."

He looks at me for a long moment and I feel his face turn to stone in my hands. "I knew that you'd be like this," he whispers.

"What's wrong with you now?" I ask, but I can't keep from smiling. I couldn't change my expression, whatever it looks like, if I tried.

"You haven't got anything yet," he points out but I kiss him briefly, anyway, before walking away, ripping my tie off as I go. I should have a cigar. People have cigars at moments like this. I have no cigars.

"Well, obviously it's as good as done, isn't it?" I say as I settle for whisky instead. "Right, when are you going to do it? Do it tomorrow. You should have done it while I was away, like I told you. Why didn't you? Oh, fuck it, who cares? Go with the paper with the largest readership with the exclusive and it'll filter through. No, maybe you should send it to the news stations at the same time? Yes. Yes, you have to do that. What evidence have you got? Let me see it."

"Yeah, I just carry a bomb like that around with me," he says sarcastically, still rooted to the spot but watching me. "Be assured that it's enough, but you can't have it."

My joy of the moment makes me slow to his words but they hit me as I approach him with two tumblers in my hand. "You are joking. You better be joking."

"I'm not saying that I don't want this, but the country is stable right now. Other world leaders are involved in this scheme too, so we have to consider the ramifications globally as well. In terms of you, you're the natural choice for the next leader and The Lady won't run another term. If this comes out then it'll cause a split and I'm not sure if you're established enough yet. Why are you rushing?"

"What? You're actually thinking of letting this go? Whose side are you on?"

"I don't know."

I bark out a laugh as anger is thrown in with my exultation. "This is about you, isn't it?" I say, dumping the glasses on the table with frustration. "You're actually more concerned about what effect this will have on you. Well, don't worry, L. You'll keep your job. I'll give you a pay rise and all that shit. Wait, you can have this apartment. No, somewhere closer to the Kantei. We'll have to sort it out. You can sort it out. But no, nothing will change but your bank balance and that you'll be fucking the Prime Minister instead. How about that for a promotion?"

"Why are you so cold about this? I don't care about money. Is it only power that you want? What about the aspirations you kept telling me that you had? All these policies you wanted to go through to improve things for people. If this happens, you're leader of a country and you work for the people. I've used corruption to get you here so you can eradicate it, that's what you said once. That's what you wanted."

"And that'll all happen. That's the piss easy part. Give me a moment of jubilation for a minute, will you? Do you expect me to be weighed down by responsibility already? Excuse me for a moment, I have to weep in the corner for a while because I can't possibly be happy about this even though it's what I've been working for for years."

"Your ambition means more to you than I do and it means more to you than the actuality of being head of this country's government. You haven't won a medal or been chosen for prom king. This is serious."

"Oh, great. I knew this was all about you. I'm very sorry that I have more in my life than you, L. Sometimes I think that you'd rather I was nothing - like I was Mihael or someone. Some nobody who serves you. I'm sorry that I don't have time to think about you every waking minute and that my world doesn't revolve around you. Fuck's sake."

"I don't expect or want that. I want you to make this happen as much as you do, but not if you're going to be like everyone who's gone before you. I didn't help you for that."

"I'm nothing like them."

"And I'm not hiding forever," he says.

"Oh God!" I laugh again. My head can't cope with this. I should have dealt with this myself and never have brought him into it. Of course he was going to do this. He goes on to tell me exactly what I expect him to say.

"I'll resign before you run for leader and after an appropriate time you come out of your cosy little closet. No big announcement, just gradually letting it filter through is the best way. It might have prevented you becoming PM but they can't kick you out because of it. That's my demand."

"You've done all this so you can be First fucking Lady?" I shout at him.

"Not at all, I couldn't give a shit what your status is, but this isn't something I'm willing to hide for much longer, especially with all the press attention you'll get. Do you really think that we can carry on dropping by and staying over at each other's houses without someone realising? We're basically jumping over garden fences under the cover of darkness as it is. You know what this is? It's  _Maurice_  in reverse, that's what it is, and it's got to stop. This self-loathing is something you have to get over and make no apologies for it."

"I have no issue with it. What I have an issue with is you laying demands down and blackmailing me into complying like I don't have a say in this. They'll look into our history and gossip will start flying around. That could put my position in jeopardy, so no. Shit idea, L. No deal," I say as I pick up my whisky and down it. God knows how long he's been planning this coup d'état of madness. He's been sitting on this all week, probably.

"If you don't then they'll find out, anyway, and you'll be pushed out for dishonesty. How can they trust you when you can't even be honest about yourself?"

"It's nobody's business!"

"No, but it will be when you're Prime Minister, whether you like it or not."

"You have contacts so you block any rumours. Have you turned completely stupid while I was away?"

"Light, you really don't understand. Do you think that they'll take any notice of me when they have a scandal involving the PM? You're ignorant."

"And you're a real killjoy," I say, trying to calm him into submission with difficulty. I place my hands on his shoulders. "Listen, let's just enjoy the moment, yeah? We did this."

"Yes, and you said that you loved me."

"When?"

"Just now."

"Did I?" I stall, trying to rewind over the last few minutes. "Well, I do. I love what you've done for me."

"I see," he mumbles. No, he's not pleased with my answer, which is made clear when he walks past me.

"And where are you going?" I ask. He doesn't reply, so I follow him like it's an idiot conga line. "L, where are you going?"

"Home."

"Hey, what is your problem?"

"You are my problem."

"You know, you're wonderful, but you're also very annoying with your flipping from one thing to the other. Everything will be fine in the morning," I assure him. He'll come around to my way of thinking - he always does - but he spins around at my words, surprising me. I nearly walk into him and laugh in his face.

"Oh, yes. Fine in the morning, but for how long?" he asks me. "Light, if you betray me, ever, I will bring you down so fast that you'll be living under a bridge before the end of the week. You'll be telling a sock puppet about how you were nearly god of your new world."

"Ha! Yeah, L, whatever. Try it. Just fucking try it."

"I don't think you know who you're dealing with."

"And I don't think that you have any idea what I'm capable of."

"You? You think that I'm frightened of you?"

"You better give this to the press, L. If I don't hear whispers of this next week then I'll..."

"What, kill me?" he finishes for me. I stumble slightly at the thought and have to grab the back of the chair to stop myself from stepping backwards. I drank the whisky too fast, I think. His eyes flicker over me with disgust. "I've never seen anything more pathetic than you at this moment."

"Oh! You want me to tell you that you've done well?" I ask, recovering. There's no way on earth that he's leaving. "Well, you have. I'm very grateful and you should shut up so I can show you." I rush to the door and slam it shut just as he opens it an inch. He is actually disgusted with me. How can that be?

"I hate you sometimes," he breathes into the door.

"Hate. Love. Same thing," I tell him, and wrap one arm around his chest.

"You sound like Jeevas."

What a despicable thing to say. I want to hit him and kiss him for it. Only he would hand me something with a proviso. Who else would dare? I lean forward and press my lips against his ear. His hair falls in my eyes and all I see is darkness then, his particular darkness, and it's such a relief. I haven't seen it for over a week and it feels like years. And to think that I nearly forgot all about it. The thought seems ridiculous now as he tenses from the feeling of my breath as it curls around the shell of his ear. My voice sounds like an echo of a sea breeze carrying words as I speak directly to the heart of him.

"You can't leave, L. My L, you can't leave. You can't miss this. I'm going to make you see stars."


	6. I'm Just A Killer For Your Love

I wouldn't say that things are fine in the morning, but he's still here. He gratefully took up the subject of his family and friends instead of what he really wants to talk about but is too emotionally exhausted to bring up again. We're talking about his mother instead, a Japanese woman who left his English father when L was fifteen. L stayed in England to be educated to within an inch of his life while she returned to Japan, and their relationship never fully recovered. His relationship with his father sounds equally shaky to me, though L assures me as though he's assuring himself that it's absolutely perfect. He's his father's favourite son, the others are very disappointing and L can't stand them. His sister is an idiot who likes horses and not much else, and his best friend is known as B and he lives in France. L's yet to say his real name and I'm yet to ask. I can barely begin to care. I wonder if he had a friend called 'T', because that would have been quite funny during a roll call.

"So, what are you doing today?" L asks me. "Oh wait, you haven't checked your diary. Everything stops for the diary check."

"I booked the day off to recover from the trip since I went in yesterday straight from the airport."

"You need to recover from a holiday?"

"It wasn't a holiday, it was work."

"It's strange that the better the job you get, the less you work, whereas the better the job I get, the harder I work."

"My work is just condensed and I'm more efficient."

"Oooh, and there's Prime Minister's Circle Jerk tomorrow," he comments with mock excitement as he drinks his coffee.

"Questions," I correct, and drink mine.

"Otherwise known as everyone patting themselves on the back and a general ego boost for all concerned. Meanwhile, I do all the hard work that keeps you in business."

"That's very cynical of you, L. How can you speak like that about our wonderful establishment? It's almost like you want to hurt my feelings," I say, smiling as I reach for a newspaper. He replies in his cold, bored tone as he mirrors my action, flapping a newspaper wide with some sense of irritation.

"I doubt it. The only way I could hurt your feelings is by dragging dog shit through your apartment and pissing all over that bloody awful table of yours. Do you actually like any of these things, or do you just think that you should? You don't know, do you? You're just some shipeshifter without a personality of his own, not a nice one anyway, so you just create a tasteful face for everyone. Aren't you going to say anything?"

"I don't want to argue with you."

"Oh. Not even to defend yourself? Please?"

"We're not in court and you could argue with yourself in an empty room. I have nothing to say to such stupid statements."

"No matter. Back to the point, you'd never get anywhere in this 'wonderful establishment' of yours without me, and you know it. You'd still be a little backbencher. I'm very useful for this game you're playing."

"Politics is not a game and I don't need a strategist, thank you."

"I suppose not, but I'm still very useful, aren't I? Give me that much."

"You're useful... on occasion."

"Of course I fucking am," he says with little restraint into the open newspaper he's holding.

"L, calm down."

"I am calm," he tells me, and it sounds just as believable as when he told me that he and his father are on excellent terms. This kind of antagonism is typical of him, and he gets away with it as long as he doesn't make eye contact. "Tell me," he says, "you were involved in the Penber dossier weren't you? I can tell by your style and spin." He's right, I did contribute certain sections on behalf of Mikami. Some of it was in the final paper, which pleased me, but that was a long time ago.

"I had nothing to do with it, though I would have been honoured to work on such a document."

"A document which complimented U.S. suspicions and hid a multitude of sins rather than tell the truth?"

"The dossier was based on independent research. It was the truth."

"No, it wasn't. I  _was_ involved in the dossier, you see. I saw the 'research' as you put it, and it was inconclusive at best," he says as he turns a page. I am not talking about Penber.

"I love how you keep these insignificant details to yourself. Instead of telling me things like that, you tell me about the new coffee machine in the House."

"I didn't think it was anything to do with you, but I now see that I was wrong. That little dossier led to the death of Dr Kuroba, a good man. But I suppose that doesn't matter. There's no room for good men in this business."

"You can't believe the rumours that he was offed? I didn't take you for a conspiracy theorist."

"He was killed on the orders of the government, yes. Maybe Penber too. I'll tell you that off the record, of course."

"Goes without saying," I mutter, every syllable covered in barbs. This is politest argument we've ever had and it's almost surreal. There was a time when we didn't fight at all. We've fought more since last night than we have in the last year, actually, but I suppose it was only to be expected that it would come to this. He emphasises his 'usefulness' and holds what I want just out of my reach like a carrot on a stick. I'm not that fucking desperate. "Maybe the press should know about that too?" I suggest, since I can't resist goading him.

"I don't think so," he says. "You don't know exactly what is in the public interest and what isn't, but I do. If we were in opposition then I would say yes, it's very important that the public know about this and other crimes. However, we're not in opposition, so they have no need to know. I'll tell you that for free too. I'll confide in you all these little things which you despise."

"Please don't confide in me then. Listening to you is the equivalent of throwing myself into a septic tank." What he says disgusts me and yet it makes sense. I want him to go and I want him to stay. Instead, I put some distance between us by going to the kitchen to try to put something edible together for breakfast. Toast and... powdered egg? When did I ever buy powdered egg? Was I expecting to be trapped in my apartment for years with only powdered egg to keep me alive?

"Ok. I won't," L shouts over. "Especially since you don't confide in me. You've been a bit slack in the gossip department lately, apart from things which might benefit yourself and yourself only. I'm a bit disappointed in you."

"I tell you everything worth knowing but there's just not much to say at the moment. I don't hear so much since I've been promoted, but feel free to leave at any point. I'm not sure whether you want this gossip for the money or because it proves something to you about who you work for."

"Both, probably. I like these little battles. They're messy and expose the liars, of which there are many, but I escape with no weapon like I've stabbed them with an knife made of ice. Plus, it helps you. There's another reason, and one that you probably won't disapprove of."

"No, but it's not for me, it's for the country."

"You're a beautiful liar," he says to the paper. No, he better not fucking look at me or I'll make a massacre of his face. "You're just an actor really," he continues. "A full-time actor. I wonder if my fascination with you will ever end."

"My fascination with you is ending quite quickly," I reply while I read the instructions for reconstituting powdered egg. This is probably a terrible idea but it's something to keep me occupied when the only other thing I can think of doing is to claw at L's eyes. Said eyes are now looking in my direction.

"And that, my friend, is yet another lie pie," he says. "Two years is a long time. Practically forever. You pretend to hate my underhand methods, but you love everything I do."

It's hardly something that he should be proud of. He either wants me to agree or deny it, and I don't want to do either. Thankfully, there's an impatient knock at the door, which saves me the trouble answering him as he sits waiting and staring at me expectantly. I don't care who it is, they can come in and make me breakfast while they're here. The door is barely open when Sayu bursts in and marches straight past me.

"Come in, Sayu, why don't you?" I say. She doesn't take off her shoes and I fight the urge to throw her out again for that crime alone. Just as I'm about to point out the footprints she's left on my carpet, and the fact that she's wearing a velour tracksuit that she really should set on fire, she turns on the spot with a look of Yagami determination which is pretty frightening to be faced with.

"I want a baby and I want it now," she tells me.

L calls over from the chair while still reading the papers, "As a lawyer, I feel that I need to point out where the law stands on this. The law says go ahead, have a baby with your brother and good luck to you, such is the Japanese legal system. On a personal level I need to point out that any resulting baby will probably have two heads and various genetic problems. Maybe this is an instance where you should ignore the law and think of science."

Sayu screws up her face momentarily before she turns towards him. "Oh, Lawliet-san, I didn't realise you were here," she says.

"No, I didn't realise it either. How did I end up here?" he mutters, looking around the room whil Sayu wanders over to sit opposite him. She doesn't seem to find it strange that he's here, which is comforting, I suppose. I won't have to use that boring 'we're car sharing to a tennis game' excuse, so I go back to the kitchen to try and save my toast from burning while Sayu confronts L with her problems. Rather him than me. I put the egg mess in a pan and hope for the best. God, this cooking thing is too easy. Now I need to put a sweater over my shirt, so I leave everything to look after itself.

"Can I demand a baby?" she asks him.

"Legally speaking?" he replies.

"Yes. It's a husband's obligation, isn't it?"

"Not really, no. Light, what are you doing in there?"

I had not thought to shut the door because I wanted to monitor their conversation and I hadn't anticipated getting my head and arms stuck in my sweater. The neckline is stuck just under my eyes. "I... I can't get it over my head," I confess and walk slightly towards the doorway with my arms above my head.

"Are you stuck?".

"No."

"Ok."

"You look stuck, Light," Sayu points out. Well, yes.

"I'm fine. You carry on." I walk back into the bedroom and try to figure this out. You don't get this problem with suits, so I have learned a life lesson. Just to make everything just that little more excruciating, L has silently come to investigate and is sitting on the bed. "Erm, what are you doing? Piss off," I tell him.

"I'm just going to sit here," he says, and crosses his legs, folding his hands around one knee.

"And watch me?"

"There's nothing on TV and your sister is asking me stupid questions. Do you actually expect to listen to her?" he asks as I start struggling with the sweater in annoyance, swinging from side to side like I'm dancing. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"I think my fucking dry cleaner fucked up my fucking sweater."

"Or maybe you've put on weight while you were on holiday."

"Get out of this room!" I shout, though it's muffled through wool and loses the intended acidity. He doesn't go.

"Are you trying to get in or out of it?"

"Yeah, L, I want to wear this shrunken fucking thing because it'll look amazing. It's just the effect I'm going for. Fuck the  _fuck_!" I give up. "Ok. Help."

He duly stands up and tries to evaluate the situation before starting to pull at the sweater in strategic places. "Mmmm... sweater bondage. Wholesome yet... I think I'll leave you like that," he says, taking a step back. I start struggling again and he's just lucky that my arms are restrained. "Ok, ok, stop flailing like a crazy matador, I'll help you. Why did you think that you could fit into this in the first place."

"I was listening to you."

"And so you should because look what happens when you do. Oooh, hello! Your hair is an absolute mess. I'm just warning you, you should psych yourself up before you look in the mirror because you might have a panic attack." Obviously the first thing I do is look in the mirror, and it's not good, no. As I survey the damage, L starts making it worse.

"Don't touch my hair! Anyway, what is Sayu doing here?" I ask, trying to flatten my hair as I walk back into the living room. "I hope that you haven't mistaken my apartment for a restaurant, Sayu. If you want breakfast then you'll have to go somewhere else. Actually, just go somewhere else anyway. Do you want eggs with your toast, L?"

"You haven't eaten yet?" Sayu asks. "It's after nine."

"Eggs. Yes," L replies, sits, and shakes out his paper again while Sayu turns back to him for answers to this all-consuming issue.

"So there's nothing I can do?" she whines.

"I hear that turkey basters have come on in leaps and bounds in recent years," he says.

"Ewwwwww... I can't have sex with a turkey baster! Light, tell him!"

"She can't have sex with a turkey baster, L. It's unhygienic for a start. There are places that a turkey baster shouldn't venture and my sister is one of those places."

"How do you get the stuff to go in the turkey baster anyway? How does it work?" Sayu asks, completely confounded.

"Oh Lord," L sighs and makes a quick getaway, walking in the direction of the bathroom. Sayu turns to look at me as if I'll answer her question in his stead.

"Maybe you should speak to Touta about this?" I suggest.

"I have. He says we still can't afford one. He hasn't been promoted for two years and there wasn't even much of wage increase last time; no bonuses or anything. He's useless, Light, and I'll be too old soon. My biological clock is going insane!"

"Sayu, you're twenty five."

"Exactly!"

"I don't think you have to worry too much right now. Look, I'm really sorry but I want to eat my breakfast without talking to you about artificial insemination using turkey basters. This is not a good time. We're going to play tennis after this so, y'know, do you mind?"

"Why aren't you supporting me? This is a serious issue for me and you don't care. Nobody cares."

"I do care." There should be something green on the eggs. I know this because I saw a cookery programme once when I was ill and the remote was too far away for me to change the channel. There's always green on the eggs, chives or cress or fuck knows. I don't have anything green apart from the rind on my French cheese. Shit. I take the plates in as they are and the eggs are rubbery and still powdery as anything. This is a complete disaster.

"It's alright for you," Sayu moans. "Men can have children into their eighties, women can't."

"We're not still talking about turkey basters are we?" L asks on his return, picking up his plate.

"No, Sayu was just leaving."

"I wasn't," she says, reaching forward to take a slice of my toast while my knife and fork hover over the plate. She speaks through a mouthful of eggy bread, pebbledashing my carpet. "Tell me how this turkey baster thing works, Lawliet-san."

"I'm not an expert. I suggest that you google it. I'm sure that there's a step by step guide somewhere."

"No, Sayu, don't start googling turkey basters. What you need is to speak to Touta in a reasonable way and listen to him. Look over your finances and try and be logical about this. You can get a job and save some money maybe, be proactive. Touta's just being sensible."

"You're always on his side. You could give us the money. Why don't you give us the money?" She latches onto this idea with horrifying aggression. When there's another knock on the door, I leap up to answer it. It's Touta. Great.

"Hey, Light, how was your trip? Is Sayu here? Sayu!" Touta exclaims, walking past me. I go back to my breakfast. L and I sit in silence as if there isn't a marital dispute going on in front of us. It's almost nice to have someone else argue instead.

"I don't want to talk to you right now!" Sayu shouts. Touta looks desperate. The man needs to grow a spine.

"But Sayu... Oh, hi, Lawliet-san!" he says when he notices L, who lifts his fork in reply. "Sayu, please, you can't go running off like that," Touta continues. "Can't we talk about this?"

"No, you said point blank no," she rages. "All the no's. All I ever hear from you is no and I'm sick of it!"

"Baby, please -"

"That's just it! I want a BABY!"

"This needs something..." I muse, pointing at my substandard breakfast.

"Paprika," L states. "Or to be put through the waste disposal."

I jump up and run to the kitchen. "Yes! Hold on, I have that spice rack that that bastard from Culture gave me," I call back while poor Touta fails to appease Sayu by pointing out her insanity.

"Sayu, you can't just come here and interrupt Light's breakfast with Lawliet-san. Let's talk about it back home."

"It's perfectly alright, really. I can hardly hear you if I chew loudly enough," L tells him.

Sayu crosses her arms and Touta visibly winces at the action. "I'm not coming home. I'm staying here," she says.

"Oh no, Sayu, you're going home. Touta, take her away," I demand on my way back with the paprika. "How much paprika do you put on?" I ask L. He looks at the label.

"You've got the strong type. It depends whether you want the experience of giving a blow job to a man who's dipped his dick in wasabi or if you want your head blown off entirely."

"Neither really."

Touta apologises as I sprinkle an uncertain amount of paprika on the eggs. "I'm really sorry about this Light."

"Don't worry about it, just go."

"Light, I came here looking for sanctuary," Sayu cries in a high, distraught pitch.

"I've haven't got anywhere to put you, Sayu."

"You have a guest room."

"I made it into an office."

"I'll sleep on the sofa."

"No you won't. You'll go home and sort out your problems with Touta and leave me alone. Fuck! What is this shit?" I ask. The eggs are now like a burning pit of hell.

"Too much?" L asks, apparently unaffected.

"This was the worst idea you've ever had. Let's go to that Italian bistro instead. Ok, you two," I say, turning to Sayu and Touta, "We're going, so you are too."

"Light -" Sayu starts but I physically push them out and shut the door. God.

"Sayo-fucking-nara. Your family is deranged," L tells me. "I hope you don't mind me saying that. I wonder who's going to turn up next, the touring cast of  _The Phantom of the Opera_? So, you're going to be an uncle? I'd laugh but I don't think that I'd ever stop."

"No."

"Now, Light, I think you have some lingering misconception that men have some input besides the obvious. What wives want, they will surely get. He'll crack or she'll catch him in a moment of weakness."

"No, no," I say. "Well, maybe, but look at all the fucks I give. I want frittata."

"Then frittata you shall have."

* * *

"Bitches!"

L and I both turn around and sigh simultaneously as Jeevas approaches. I have no idea what he's wearing but it looks like fake fur over his suit, like he's skinned a mammoth.

"What are you doing here, Jeevas?" I ask. He lights up a fat cigarette even though we're inside and he's blowing smoke directly into the face of a toddler who's dangling over her father's shoulder in front of us.

"I thought that I'd try this place before work. I'll have a tall macchiato and a bag of those jammy things Lawliet's got there," he tells me. My eyes widen at his audacity but somehow I can't be bothered to argue. It's not good in this situation, not now, so I add them to the order and hand them my card. "So, have you two been playing tennis?" he asks with a knowing grin.

"No, we just happen to be here at the same time," I answer moodily.

"Oh, I see. Coincidence is a beautiful thing sometimes. Serendipity, you could call it."

"Jeevas?" L asks, turning to him with lazy eyes.

"Yes?"

"Please leave."

"Ha! Oh, Lawliet, mate, you're a funny man and that's the truth. I'll get us a table," he says, ruffling L's hair, making him flinch at the touch like he's been given a nasty jolt by a live wire. As Jeevas wanders off to commandeer a table by the window, L and I look at each other sadly.

"Tell him to piss off," L begs. He's a broken man.

"I can't bring myself to care if he stays or not right now."

"Let's run then. Let's just run for our lives."

"I thought that you'd appreciate some old fashioned banter with an idiot -" I stop abruptly to beam a smile as a woman with yet another baby walks towards me. "Minister Yagami, I'm so pleased to meet you," she says. "My husband and I think that you're a credit to the government and we need more people like you to..." and on she goes. She takes a photo on her phone as I coo appropriately and even hold the baby. I note with some thankfulness that it doesn't seem to have shat itself because, apart from being repulsive, I'm also wearing a particularly expensive Ozwald Boateng suit. A small crowd gathers, spurred on by this woman's bravery, each wanting to tell me how fantastic I am. By the time this is over, I see that L has taken the tray and himself and has sat at a totally different table to Jeevas, who still appears to be waiting for us to arrive. I sit with L. Unfortunately, a few minutes later, Jeevas realises and plonks himself next to me.

"I had a nice table there," he complains.

"Go back to it then," L mutters, stirring sugar into his coffee. "I'm sure that it misses you."

"I get the feeling that you don't like me very much, Lawliet."

"What gave you that idea?"

"Oh, I dunno," he says, and takes one of L's cakes. This was the most unwise move he could have made.

"Get your fucking hands off my fucking cake and get the fuck away from this fucking table!" L shouts. People turn to look at us and I smile at them all before attempting to ease his wrath, or at least lower his voice and stop swearing. There are children everywhere and they've all learned a brand new word. It's like a crèche in here, the little bastards.

"L -"

"No," he interrupts. "How am I supposed to have my coffee and cake in any semblance of the peace and tranquility which is necessary for me to start the day well, if this  _thing_ is sitting next to me and stealing my fucking cakes? This is just unacceptable. I'm going to call the police because you've stolen my cake. I am going to take you to court and wring you out to dry. You'll be cleaning toilets on the bowel ward at the hospital until the end of time. And even after you're dead, because by GOD I will outlive you, I will still be claiming compensation from any unfortunate offspring you might sire. Now fuck off, you thieving degenerate."

Jeevas blinks. "You speak way, way too much."

"Do I utilise too many words for you? Shall I try and keep them under four characters in length?"

"Your mother was shagged by a dictionary and you're the result."

"Jeevas, don't speak to him like that. You're -" I try, but am cut off again.

"I'm ok, Light, thanks," L tells me. "I have coping strategies for this type of confrontation. It's called not giving a shit."

Jeevas' hackles rise at this and he straightens in his chair, which seems to take some effort. "What's with all this informality between you two?" he asks. "Bloody coffee and cakes and fucking... what is that, frittata? Tennis all hours of the day. It's like you're married or something."

"Yes, Jeevas, the baby is due in April," L says. "This changes nothing, you can still get the hell out of my airspace."

"I knew it! You're totally buggering the living daylights out of each other, aren't you?"

"I'M GOING TO SUE YOU FOR SLANDER!"

"L, calm down and have his cake instead," I demand. "Jeevas, I'd go if I were you. This is very bad for my public image and -"

"I'm going to have you executed by firing squad," L interrupts again, practically spitting into Jeevas' face. "I'm going to change the law just so I can shoot you, hang you, put you in the gas chamber, and chop your fucking head off."

"You sound like a girl," Jeevas says. "You're a girl with a dick."

"That's it. I'm going to -"

"Please go, Jeevas," I repeat slowly so he can understand. He pushes his chair away with a noisy squeak against the linoleum.

"And you! You're always a bastard," he says accusingly at me as if I've let the side down.

"I resent that. I've been nothing but nice to you at the expense of much personal suffering."

"Jesus, you're both irritable. Bloody poofs," he mumbles before walking away. L stands and shouts after him.

"I'M GOING TO SUE YOU FOR DISCRIMINATION AND FOR BEING A FUCKWIT! IT'S MY DUTY TO THE WORLD TO DESTROY YOU!"

"L, sit down and eat your cake," I say, smiling at the onlookers again like it's a wonderful set piece of entertainment.

"He's the most odious shit stain. I enjoyed that. Oh, and he left his cake. This all worked out beautifully!"

"I'm glad you think so."

"You're very calm. You're like one of those meditating idiots who float."

"I'm in public, otherwise I would have been shouting just as loud as you. Well, maybe not quite as loud as you, but I would have conveyed my general displeasure at his existence. He's an awful person, you just have to try and forget that he was born. It's taken me a few years but I've reached that Nirvana. When he turns up it's just like a bad acid trip to me."

"I'm really very taken with you," L says, his smile falls when I smile at him though. "Sometimes it just hits me while simultaneously hating everything about you."

"Yeah. Hey, do you want a lemon tree?"

"Erm... I wasn't expecting that."

"I was given one from the Spanish ambassador's wife. Fuck knows what she thought I'd do with it. You have a garden. You have it."

"Just what I've always wanted."

"It's in my office, just take it away."

"I don't really want it, Light. I'm busy tonight, by the way. Not that it would really make any difference to you. We've already established that you barely notice if I'm there or not."

"Ok," I reply. My lack of interest annoys him.

"Takada's family are holding a memorial. With wine. Should be wonderful. Hopefully everyone will be falling around crying before the end."

"Oh, I'm going to that."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? You always did love to observe devastation."

"I was invited to observe the devastation actually."

* * *

It's a nice evening and I'm wearing a nice suit. I arrive a little bit late because that's what important people do, and I find that L has already immersed himself in the wine selection. I try to avoid him and immerse myself in some social networking instead, since this is a zoo for that sort of thing, but he obviously has nothing else in his life but to make my life a misery. He laughs inappropriately at things I say to other ministers, forcing me to include him in the dishwater conversations. There was an awkward moment when I was pulled aside by an aide who I had an affair with years ago when I was interning. I didn't realise that he was still alive. What on earth was I thinking? He'll have to go. Eventually I give up and settle for standing in the corner with L and Touta.

"What is this place?" Touta asks. He's in awe of the strange mix of traditional Japanese simplicity and grandiose baroque detailing.

"God knows," L says. "I have no idea how I got here. I thought that this was a bath house."

"Who's that?" I ask, tipping my glass towards a woman who's talking to Naomi and Jeevas. I know her but can't remember exactly where from. Her face keeps being obscured by sycophants in suits walking in front of her and L has to lean slightly to one side to see who I'm referring to.

"Takada's daughter," he answers. "This is just a debutante's ball to her, which is in quite bad taste considering that it's supposed to be a memorial for her father, don't you think?"

She's noticed us and is making her way over in her kimono and tightly wrapped obi, stuttering on her heels. In my mind I scan through faces committed to memory and find her; she was year or so below me at university. I never put the name and face together at the time.

"Welcome," she says as she reaches us. Touta does a quick bow.

"No, than-"

"Thank you for inviting us," I say, taking over from Touta. She focuses her laser beams on me and everyone might as well disappear. It happens to me a lot.

"You're Light Yagami."

"Yes, I'm pleased to meet you, Takada-san. Your father was an inspiration to me."

"You don't remember me, do you? We were at To-Oh at the same time. Different classes."

"I remember. Miss To-Oh, right?"

"Oh, don't! It's so embarrassing." She doesn't look in the least embarrassed. She touches her face self-consciously and smiles, but she's thrilled to be reminded of her greatest achievement in life.

"You have no reason to be embarrassed," I smile back. L laughs into his wine glass and walks off, thank god.

"Um... Yagami-san, can I talk to you in private?" she asks, gesturing towards an open door which leads onto a balcony, partially illuminated by the lanterns in the garden below. She doesn't even wait for an answer before she makes her way towards the door, expecting me to follow, which I do after raising my eyebrows at Touta.

Her breath mists up the glass of the door from the effort of closing it behind us. "Sorry, it's just that I'm sick of these people. They listen in on everything," she says, walking towards me.

"That's politicians for you," I agree.

"I hate them." You and me both, darling. It makes me laugh.

"Not all of them are as bad as you think," I say, taking a sip of my wine.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean you. At least, I think you're a good man. You couldn't say the things you did about my father if you weren't. That's what I need to talk to you about. I heard what you said the day he died - it was beautiful. I just wanted to thank you."

That's understandable. Her father received some of the most glorious words I've ever strung together. It set the precedent for public feeling, since no one was sure whether they should care or not. He had mellowed with age to a certain level of incompetence, but in his day he'd been quite a firebrand for the people. A line from my speech had been engraved on his tombstone. 'From the good men of this earth, the phoenix rises, and will never die.' Over the top, but the occasion called for it. You don't get remembered for half measures.

I bow my head and when my eyes meet hers again, I find gratefulness there, truly felt. She obviously likes a mix of powerful domination, a good reputation, a nice face, and a good job, otherwise she wouldn't give you the time of day. Add that to a degree of vulnerability and sensitivity, someone who needs a Lady Macbeth, and it's a done deal for her. I'm aware that I'm being weighed up, although she'd probably decided on me a long time ago. I admire her patience and choose not to disappoint her, so I play more on my vulnerability by sadly turning towards the dark view of Mount Edo. "It was nothing," I dismiss as I lean on the rail overlooking the garden. "We'd only heard the news a few minutes before, so I was shocked when the press approached me. I just said what I was feeling. Someone else could have made a better, more eloquent tribute." Ha. Could they fuck.

"You shouldn't put yourself down like that," she tells me, touching my arm delicately. "I know all the people in there and you're the only good man here."

"I don't know, sometimes I wonder. Politics seems to steal your soul. When I came in I had so many dreams, but they seem unattainable sometimes. I believed that they were all possible when your father was alive."

Out of the corner of my eye I see her look downwards briefly. "Don't say that," she says. "It's still possible. Really, I... I admire you. I know you can do so many great things for Japan. I believe in you."

I see her profile looking at the same view of the night-touched mountain. The breeze twists her hair out of its tight knot, letting it whisper around her face.

"I take it that I have your vote then?" I laugh while she smiles shyly.

"You're the only person in politics who's worth anything. I was thinking of running for a seat myself, but father was dead against it." Oh. Poor little rich girl under her daddy's thumb. Basic knowledge of politics and what to expect from someone at the top. Ideal really.

"He probably wanted to protect you, though we desperately need some intelligent female politicians."

"I used to help him with some of his work sometimes," she says. "Just organising mostly, typing out notes, but I felt like I was helping. It's a gift, really, to be chosen by the people to represent them and do things in their best interests, even if they don't understand it at the time. You can make such a difference. Yes, that's exactly what it is. It's a gift. It's almost god-like. I hope that I don't offend you."

"Why should what you said offend me?"

"Um... Yagami-san?"

"Please, call me Light."

"Light. I always loved your name. I'm sorry, I don't mean to embarrass you."

"Ha! Thanks. I'm not sure what my mother was thinking when she chose it."

"I do. It suits you."

"Well, it's very useful for publicity and slogans for campaigns."

"Light, I was wondering if there's any way that I could help you? At your department, I mean."

"I'd be honoured. That's very kind of you, Kiyomi."

"You do remember me!" she exclaims.

"You're not easy to forget."

"Oh, I don't know about that -"

"Now who's being self-depreciating? So, what have you been doing since university? It seems a long time ago now, doesn't it?"

"I majored in journalism and worked for a few national papers but it's difficult to break into the industry unless you're willing to start from bottom. I was too arrogant for that at the time, so I went abroad for a few years and worked in PR for a charity."

"I'm sure I can find a spot for you then," I tell her. I'm going to sack my secretary tomorrow.

"Anything, really. If you need a tea lady then I make a really good cup of tea," she laughs. I laugh.

"We can do better than that. It's hard to find someone that I can trust to be part of my team. You'd be perfect."

"This is the easiest job interview I've ever had! We should discuss it sometime."

"I know a good thing when I see it and I don't like wasting time," I admit, pulling away from the railing. "I better go, Kiyomi. I'll call you here tomorrow, is that alright? People will talk if I keep you here too long and I have an early meeting tomorrow morning."

"And Prime Minister's Questions in the House," she says.

"Yes. I'm sorry, of course you've been through all this with your father."

"I understand the hours that you have to put in."

She leans back on the railing to watch me leave. A few feet away from her, I turn as if hit by some wonderful idea.

"Actually, do you like opera?

"No."

"That's good, neither do I. What about dinner?" She shakes her head and smiles broadly before catching herself, amending her expression to a slight upturned mouth of demure interest. "Ok. What do you like?" I ask. "You make it very difficult for a man. Maybe this is why I never spoke to you at university."

"Pick me up at eight tomorrow night," she says. "I'm sure we'll figure something out."

I nod with amusement and take a card out of my pocket. "This is my private number. I'll be here at eight."

"I'll look forward to it," she says, closing the gap between us and takes the business card lazily while staring into my eyes. Moments pass. What does she expect me to do?

"I better go," I repeat.

"People will talk," she smiles.

"I'm glad we met again."

"We never did meet. You ignored me at To-Oh."

"Did I?"

"Well, you never spoke to me."

"That was very stupid of me. I'm sorry, but I think the loss was all mine."

"Maybe. But you remember me now, and that's what counts. We can put all of it right."

"I like second chances," I say and breathe out an appreciative laugh in the stillness.

"What?" she asks

"I was just thinking that you're even more beautiful than you were at To-Oh."

"Now you're embarrassing me again."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. It's weird, but I don't mind when you say things like that. I'll come in with you."

"No, you stay there. I'd like to remember you this way," I say. God, she's such a sap for this sort of thing, it's all over her face. I step back a few paces to give her the impression that I'm taking a kodak memory, and then leave her on the balcony. People turn towards me at the sound of rushing air when I open the door, and they stare for a little too long as I walk straight towards the wine table.

"What was that?" L demands as he drifts up beside me like a drunk thundercloud.

"Hmmm?"

"That," he says, pointing to Kiyomi as she enters the room again. Naomi pounces on her and they dip their heads like conspiritors while they walk to the opposite corner of the room. Jeevas joins them, hovering behind Naomi.

"What, Takada's daughter? She just wanted to thank me," I explain and head towards the coat stand after leaving my empty glass on the table, but he's not letting me make an easy getaway.

"Why? What have you done for her lately?" he asks.

"My speech after her father died, L. You've had too much to drink."

"Poor bitch, if only she knew. While I slowly pickle myself, why don't you carry on schmoozing? It's obviously one of your many talents," he babbles. "Chat up everyone in the room, like it makes any difference to me. It's all for show, I know that you're mine."

He's speaking far too loudly and openly so I grasp hold of his arm and pull him close so he can hear my whisper. "Why don't you just piss on my leg then, you bastard. You're acting like a dog claiming his territory, following me around. I'm not yours and I'll do what I fucking well want, so fuck off." I let him go and wait for the reply or for a fist to come back at me, but we both notice Jeevas rushing across the room towards us.

"Yagami and Kiyomi sitting in a fucking tree, eh?" he says breathlessly, leaning on L's shoulder, who shrugs him off immediately. "There's a turn up for the books. You should hear her talking to Naomi. Jesus, what did you do to her out there? Are you like a car wash of cunnilingus?"

"Jeevas, you've got something on your face," L says, pointing at Jeevas' face with concern.

"What? Where?"

"There, hold on... no, I'm sorry. There's semen leaking out of your mouth and it's just all over your face. I think you need to put some cotton wool in there."

"You're hilarious. You're also pissed, so I'll let you off this time."

"You really don't want to upset me, Jeevas," L tells him. "Light will tell you that that's not a good idea unless you want to reenact the final stages of the Battle of Thermopylae."

"I'm done here," I sigh, and reach for my coat. L turns quickly back to me, holding his glass at such an acute angle that he spills what little content which remains onto the floor.

"You're leaving?" he asks.

"I'm not staying here to fight with you, no. I'm a lover, not a fighter."

Jeevas suddenly makes some sort of body rolling action as he raps ineffectually in some Jamaican drawl, "Mr Lover lover! She call me Mr Boombastic, say me fantastic, touch me in me back, she say I'm Mr Ro...whoa..."

L stares at him blankly. "You are missing some chromosomes, you know that?"

"We all know that.  _You_. Get a taxi," I say, pointing into L's face. "You're not fit to drive."

"I don't think I need you to tell me what I'm fit for, thank you very much," he mutters while trying to drink from an empty glass.

"Fine, crash into a wall."

He watches me put on my coat for a second, then spies a waiter and takes a drink from his tray. "I might just do that," he smiles and raises this glass towards my scowl in a silent kanpai.

"See, if I was still in Transport, that would actually be a concern of mine. Especially if you damage our public highways and cause disruption, which you definitely would."

"That's so heartwarming. You're not in Transport now though, so you don't have to worry."

"L, get your coat. I'm your designated driver."

"I do hope that that's another of your stunning innuendoes," he replies, "because if it's not then I'm not interested. The crash barrier sounds more and more appealing."

Touta is now standing alongside L and looking me up and down with distress as I fish out my keys from my coat pocket. "You're not really going are you, Light?" he asks. "It's still early."

Jeevas laughs to himself. "He came, he saw, he made Takada's daughter come in her pants." Touta looks confused. I need someone to be mentally alert enough to drive L home.

"Touta, L's pissed so can you drive him back?" I ask.

"I am not pissed, you disgusting little shit!"

"It's my civic duty to make sure that you don't cause a pile up. Other than that, I don't care what you do. Touta, will you drop him off then?"

"I don't need dropping off anywhere by anyone," L continues to argue against blatant facts like a true lawyer. It's in his blood. His father's a judge. He was probably born with 'bloodsucking bastard' etched into his skull.

"I'll make sure he gets back ok, Light," Touta says.

"Brilliant," I exclaim as I walk away. "That's my good deed for the day then."

"Don't crash, cockbag!" L shouts after me.

* * *

Kiyomi is leaving my apartment as L turns up. He must have smelled a rat after a few days of avoidance. He stares, I stare, Kiyomi blushes. It seems like a Mexican standoff until Kiyomi squeezes past L and escapes down the hall. L watches her leave before turning back to me.

"Good choice," he says as he pushes past me. I close the door sadly after picking up my newspaper delivery which has been unceremoniously dumped outside again. I'll have to have a strong word with someone about this. "Takada's daughter," L continues. "It's almost as if you have the government's seal of approval. You really  _are_  a fast worker, aren't you? Have you set a date yet?" I ignore the question and leave him standing in the middle of the room while I walk off with my papers. "Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks.

"I'm not in the mood to make up excuses for you," I tell him.

"Oh, that's a shame. I was looking forward to hearing them. You said that you were busy last night, I just didn't realise exactly  _how_  busy. Put down those fucking papers!" he says, knocking them out of my hand. "There's nothing in there about you, if that's what you're wondering."

"What do you expect me to say?" I ask, rolling my eyes.

"I expect nothing."

"But you want everything."

"I want you to tell me something or I can't do this anymore. Especially now. What the  _hell_  are you doing with that woman?"

"Guess. Look, I don't do demands and needy begging for affection just to validate what you might feel. If I tell you what you want to hear, then it'll be hollow. It'll change everything and mean nothing. Let's not get confused about this situation we have; we're two grown men, she stayed the night, get over yourself. That's all I have to say."

"Don't be so fucking patronising."

"I'm not. I'm just pointing out how ridiculous you are. Now that I've done that, make your mind up whether you're staying or going, because you're being a complete and utter cunt," I say as I crouch to pick up the papers he's knocked into a crumpled pile on the floor. "Barging into my flat and... look at my papers. Twat."

"You're making plans for Mrs Yagami when you love me, and you're calling  _me_  ridiculous?"

I stand and throw the papers back onto the floor. This is just a joke. "When did I say that I loved you?" I ask incredulously.

"I know that you do."

"Ha! God, you're completely deluded."

This wasn't the best thing for me to say. I'm not insensitive. If the situation was different then... well, it probably wouldn't have happened. But as it is, I'm not going to apologise for wise business decisions that he should understand. He doesn't understand though, he launches at me, pushing me into the wall instead. "Say it," he says.

"Say what? Words are meaningless."

"No they're not. I need to hear it."

"Love isn't just one emotion, it's many things."

"Like?"

"Hate and Death. Lots of things."

"You think that's what love is?"

"I know it is. It doesn't mean anything unless it hurts," I say, and watch his eyes widen. The thought obviously hadn't entered his head that something couldn't be easily defined by one word in a book, and it amazes me that he thinks that if I say a few words then it will make everything a wonderful one way ticket to sharing a duvet and a mortgage. He has no idea what I'm talking about.

"And this hurts?" he asks.

"Yes. You're holding me by the throat."

"You are really fucked up," he tells me, his face twisting with disbelief. "You can't live like this. You can't marry her."

"I can if I want to," I laugh. "Bit early for that though, isn't it? But yeah, I might marry her. Why not? She'd look good on the front page, don't you think? You're the PR man; you tell me. And what does the law say about this, L? I think it says that I could press charges against you."

"You're sick."

" _I'm_  sick now? I'm not the one who's assaulting someone in their own fucking home. You think that I need saving and that you can fix me? God, you're arrogant. Get off me."

He loosens his grip around my throat and I quickly pull myself away from him. Just to emphasise how much I don't care for any of this bollocks, I straighten out one of the newspapers and glance over it while I button up my shirt with my free hand. "What?" I ask when I turn and realise that he's standing behind me. Why can't he just leave?

"You don't feel anything?" he asks.

"No. I feel nothing."

Then he punches me. I lose my balance and fall heavily, smacking my head against the floor. My anger is too much as I try to raise myself quickly and search for him, only to find him in the same place once my vision clears. The room is shaking. Either the room is shaking or I am.

"You hit me! What the fuck?" I shout, rubbing at the consuming feeling at the back of my head which hurts only slightly more than the exploding extravaganza of pain below my eye.

"It was very satisfying. Wow," he gasps, looking down on me while opening and clenching the hand he punched me with.

"Bastard," I hiss in return, but smile with the violence as he walks towards me.

"And that's you saying that."

"Come here then. Do it again," I say and reach for his legs to drag myself to kneel in front of him with my hands on his waist. Even making that small movement makes me dizzy. He looks sad as he kneels down to be on a level with me. "Do it. I want you to. I can't give you what you want, so hit me."

"You must have really banged you head," he says, scrutinising where he punched me. "You  _want_  me to hit you?"

I don't know. I don't know what I'm thinking or what I'm saying. No one has ever hit me before and I'm impressed that he has and is so unapologetic for it. A good fight might do us both the world of good instead of throwing insults at each other. I realise that I've drawn away from him over the last few weeks, possibly always, so I can avoid feeling anything. I just want him near me. He makes me feel everything. I want him out of my system and maybe this is a good way to go about it.

"You make me die a little bit every time and I want to feel it afterwards," I say quietly. "I want something that shows that you've been here." And that's the closest he's ever going to get. Maybe he realises that. I'm sure that he's going to kiss me and erase Kiyomi and her fucking perfume, but he just brushes my hair back with one hand.

"That won't look very good for the photos."

"I'll tell them that I was mugged by a very angry man," I whisper back.

"What's happened to you? Why do you want me to hurt you? I could, you know," he says, like I should be scared of him. Yeah, like that could hurt me. He wouldn't know where to start.

"Do it," I tell him angrily. I steel myself for it, seeing all the hate and disgust and confusion on his face at what I've just said. He suddenly grasps me to his chest like I'm a child and... I think that I could die here. That would be fine.

"Don't say that. I could never do that to you," he says into my hair. Pulling away, he looks in my eyes like he's checking something. "You're so selfish. All I've asked for is for you to give me one simple thing, but now you're fucking around with Takada's daughter. Why?"

"It doesn't mean anything."

"It does to me. You want me to tear down the country for you and then you do things like this. Everything you do is only for yourself."

"You do the same thing. We're all in it for ourselves."

"No, not with you," he says, shaking his head as if by doing so he'll replace the truth with the lie he believes.

"Liar."

"Maybe I was at first, but not now. And I don't know how you can think that way. What are you doing? Takada's daughter, all this love and death and hate. Think about it."

"I do nothing but think. Love and death are the same thing; we kill for love, we love the dead, and we're always so close to it. And you're so temporary. You could die any second."

"Jesus, Light," he breathes. I kiss the corner of his mouth and lift my hands around his back, and he's so tense within my arms.

"Don't pretend that you don't understand. I know that you do, you're mine. In my head and in my veins and all around me."

"Yes. Say it," he sighs and I laugh wearily, like my lungs are empty. He always asks for too much from me. I'm showing him aren't I? I'm telling him, aren't I? My lips drift lazily over his and my tongue fights its way inside his mouth. He lets me at first, but then he pulls away.

"Stop messing around with me."

"Just tell me, Light! Say the fucking words!" he shouts back.

I really don't know. I feel nothing and everything at the same time, and I don't want to lie to him and tell him something I'm not even sure is right. This is all his fault for turning up and seeing something he didn't have to see. He knew; he came here specifically to guilt trip me into kneeling on the floor like a disciple. Forgive me, forgive me... for what? He doesn't even deserve the lie of love. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction.

"I suppose that you'll have to fuck it out of me then. It's round two for me. Go for it and good luck."

"You're on your own now," he says, standing. Oh, what a missed opportunity. "Shaft The Lady yourself and shaft Takada's daughter while you're at it, but you don't touch me. I'll have the press pack on you before you can even raise your hand."

"You'll regret this!" I yell after him as he slams the door behind him. It's all he's good for, slamming doors in my face. He will fucking regret this.


	7. The Libertine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots and lots of thanks to thebarstool who read over the weird, rambling, interior design porn, psychological non-smut for quality control. Please do not get excited and don't blame her if the end scene is shite. I can't even tell anymore, but it definitely was at one point and it probably still is. She's very nice and excellent quality control, being literary and such, and her suggestions were and are invaluable. She probably just didn't want me to do something drastic with a lamp cord. Thank you, Ms Bar Stool for making it considerably less painful for me.

"Oh, Kiyomi! It's beautiful!" Sayu screeches excitedly. I almost feel the chandeliers and wine glasses tremble from the pitch of her voice.

"Fucking hell, is that real?"

"Touta," Sayu says, chastising him for his rare expletive laden outburst.

As we hurtle towards or through our thirties, we've unconsciously decided to be people who have dinners as couples with the token single person so that we seem inclusive. The single person can remind us of all the life we're missing out on, since we've chosen eternal happiness and domesticity instead. We are legion, and many places have opened to accommodate people like us. Not quite bars, not quite clubs, not quite restaurants, not quite our living rooms, but somewhere in between. We're too old for neon lights and bass sounds which are so loud that we can't hear ourselves speak, and too young and privileged for dinner on our laps and an early night. We sit snugly and smugly, congratulating ourselves on our comfortable situations. With life partners found and decent careers achieved, it's all sorted for the rest of our lives. We might as well book our holidays on cruise ships.

Kiyomi is showing off her engagement ring. I bought it from Cartier's while I was in Paris on business, and at a decent discount, actually. This is the ring's first public outing, after Kiyomi wearing a temporary 'promise' ring until I found something more appropriate. This ring is more appropriate. What I particularly like is that Kiyomi is teaming it with matching nails at the moment. She's actually dressing entirely around the ring and I genuinely admire her attention to detail. Unless she suddenly changes after the wedding, I doubt that we'll ever fall out over anything. What a calm sea is before me.

"What kind of rock is that?" Jeevas asks, trying not to be interested. Naomi is trying as well, but she looks miserable. It does knock poor Jeevas' effort for her out of the park. Sorry, Naomi, but you should have held out. Kiyomi's eyes light up at Jeevas' question and she gazes at the ring in admiration.

"It's a pink diamond," she tells him.

"Pink? That's a bit gay, isn't it, Yagami?"

"It's graded as light pink champagne, actually. It was the most expensive," I explain. It was. A 6.1 carat diamond surrounded by bands of white diamonds in a vintage setting. It _was_  very expensive but I came to a good arrangement with the manager of Cartier's, and I practically stole it. In retrospect, it might be a little ostentatious, but Kiyomi would have very upset with anything less. She took a few days to get used to the weight of it on her hand, and takes it off when she weighs herself as she likes to believe that it would knock her over another pound and make her depressed.

"Only the best," Kiyomi smiles at me. This is our private catchphrase nowadays.

"Only the very best," I agree. While glancing over the room as I drink my wine, I spot L with three suits at the bar. It's only a matter of time until he comes over to verbally assault us, and I'm very much looking forward to it. We haven't spoken for three months, although he deliberately walked into my back when I was standing precariously close to the edge on the top step of the House a while ago, and I saw that as an assassination attempt. I realised after two weeks that he wasn't going to drop The Lady in it, so I changed my plan and concentrated on Kiyomi, strangely. Didn't really want to drag that out, because a storm of shit is going to hit the fan soon and I need Kiyomi in place in a conservative dress and fuck me shoes. But L, yes. I light a cigarette in preparation and Kiyomi slaps my arm. We've already discussed how I'll have to cut this out.

As expected, L arrives at the table like a follow-up angel with news that there's been a mistake, Mary is not going to give birth to the Messiah. He's wearing a grey suit and I very much approve of that. It's actually quite well-tailored.

"Oh, Lawliet, how not very nice to see you," Jeevas says.

"Likewise," he replies. Not even Touta can appear to be pleased to see him, but he's just so painfully nice that he can't be honest.

"Take a seat," he tells him.

"Thanks, I only came over to tell Mihael how disappointed I am in the company he keeps," he says, sitting and turning to his employee. "Mihael, I'm disappointed in you. There. I said it."

"This is his off-time. He can see and do whatever and whoever he wants," Jeevas points out with a mischievous smile which Mihael returns.

"I own him," L argues calmly. "So no, he can't."

Mihael mistakenly tries to pacify L by pointing out the reason he's so angry in the first place. "L, we're just having dinner," he says, "Look, Yagami's here."

"That's exactly my point."

I raise my eyebrows and relax back in my chair. The amusement is probably clear on my face but everyone else looks either confused or offended on my behalf.

"Have I missed something? Have you taken your friendship bracelets off?" Jeevas asks. "You've fallen out?"

"No, of course not," I say, blowing some smoke into the air. I'd like to think that I look like a man who'll smile and offer a glass of wine before he shoots you. "L's sense of humour is... interesting. He's just joking. He loves me really."

"If only that were true," L mutters and dusts off some imaginary fluff from his trouser leg. It's at this point that Kiyomi decides to make herself known as part of Light Yagami Inc. She reaches forwards with her bejewelled hand to shake his in some culturally aware move which may backfire.

"Lawliet-san, I'm pleased to meet you. Light's only had good things to say about you. I'm Kiyomi Takada," she says, mustering all of her charm. It would probably take out a lesser man, but L's not vaguely interested in her charm or her hand.

"I remember you well," he says, crossing his arms. "You were leaving Light's apartment one morning after your debriefing. Of course, I could have mixed you up with another person entirely since Light debriefs a lot of people. Urgh! What the fuck is that?" He's noticed the ring.

"We're celebrating Light and Kiyomi's engagement!" Touta says happily. Oh, Touta.

"Ha!" L laughs and falls back against his chair from the force of it.

"Lawliet-san!"

"I'm sorry, I just understood a joke from a film I saw last night. Delayed reaction. Oh, well, congratulations. Light seems to have raided a diamond mine in Botswana."

"It's 6.1 carats," Kiyomi tells him. Her face is swiftly becoming stern, like an angry teacher. "And it was mined in Australia. The white diamonds are from Botswana."

"It's pink," L points out.

"It's rare."

"Rare plastic?"

"It's Cartier," she says finally, turning her hand slowly from side to side so we can all admire the shine. I think that in a blackout we could probably still use it as a flashlight by refracting the light of the moon or something.

"I didn't think that you were the marrying kind, Light," L says to me, drawing my eyes back from Kiyomi's ring.

"Obviously you were wrong," I reply slowly. I'd like to throw him and his suit on the table, but sadly my sense of propriety doesn't allow me to follow up on this whim.

"Light, can we get a bottle of red wine?" Kiyomi asks me. Less than five minutes and L's already driven her to drink. I raise my arm lazily until a waiter comes running and Kiyomi orders.

"What is this, fucking eighties night on the stereo here?" Jeevas exhales over the music. "It was all frilly blouses."

"The eighties were a black hole to decent music," is Mihael's contribution.

"Well said, bro. Well said," Jeevas agrees, and they smash knuckles across the table. "Some fucker shot John Lennon and it was all downhill from there."

"I like this song," Kiyomi informs everyone before leaning towards me, whispering her malformed English lyrics into my ear. "You know there's nothing more than this." I smile and rub her back in consolation while keeping up with L's glare.

"So, Kiyomi!" L barks suddenly, making her jump. "How's your father? I haven't seen him for a while."

Her face pales and her voice sounds hollow as she answers him. "Erm... he died."

"Oh! Yes, so he did. That explains it then."

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused," he smirks back at her. I put my hand on Kiyomi's which rests on the table and she immediately assumes being a mirror of my unaffected demeanour like I'm passing on some fast-acting disease. This obviously infuriates L, since he steals Mihael's drink. Potential crisis averted, I remove my hand from Kiyomi's to light another cigarette. Why fucking not? This is practically post-coital. I'll just get my teeth whitened, that's all.

"I can't believe that we're all going to be married men," Jeevas says wistfully. "Do you remember when we were all single men on the block? Those were the days."

"Matt."

"Uh... I mean that those were the horrible, lonely, horribly lonely days, Naomi," he corrects himself while looking like a kicked puppy at the mere memory of his life pre-Naomi. She doesn't look terribly convinced.

"Hmmm..." she rolls before grasping a stray idiotic idea from the ether. "Kiyomi! What about a double wedding?"

"NO!" Jeevas and I both shout. Absolutely not. This is the worst idea since drop crotch, wide leg jeans.

"This isn't  _Seven Brides for Seven Brothers_ , Naomi," I add. She looks crestfallen and Sayu looks deeply worried as she pours herself a glass of Kiyomi's wine.

"Whatever happens, I'm still maid of honour, right?" she asks.

"Of course, Sayu. You and my sisters," Kiyomi replies.

"What? I'm not sharing the spotlight with your sisters!"

"Darling, it's their wedding," Touta says, trying to calm his hurricane of a wife. If I was interested, I would find their relationship interesting. It's all giving on Touta's part, and all taking on Sayu's. She's attempting to take over the wedding, citing her experience of having had one even though she had a wedding planner. It started with her dress, about thirty seconds after Kiyomi and I told my parents that we'd decided to be business associates in life, and has steadily grown into a monster of arranging. Flowers, Kiyomi's dress, the location, Touta's suit, my suit, what kind of cake we have. Kiyomi is excellent at ignoring her while appearing to take her suggestions seriously. It's like someone took a tiny slither of me and fashioned Kiyomi out of it.

"You won't be in any spotlight, Sayu," I tell her. "Drink your wine." She looks like's she's going rugby tackle me, so Touta steps in.

"You're in my spotlight, darling," he says, but Sayu doesn't look like she gives a shit about constantly being in Touta's spotlight. The older she gets, the more I think that if she were not my sister, I would take a well-aimed potshot at her if I saw her crossing the road. I gave them a lump sum so they can have a baby, mostly in the hope that she would shut the fuck up. It was taken by Sayu as if she had earned it, while Touta keeps harping on about repayment plans. Based on his wages, it would take him about twenty years to pay me back. I can't be bothered with the angst, paperwork and cheques for tiny amounts, but still he keeps promising that he will find a way. As I look at Sayu, her face distorts into that of a demonic creature with completely blown black eyes. I feel ill.

"Urgh," I breathe out.

"That's so sweet, Touta," Kiyomi coos patronisingly. "Isn't that sweet, Light?"

"Nauseatingly so."

"Sorry, everyone. He's not like this normally," Kiyomi assures the table. "What's gotten into you?" she asks me quietly, and places her palm on my forehead briefly. For a moment, I think that she's going to shove a thermometer up my arse. Some man touches L on his shoulder as he walks past our table and L points two fingers to his temple as if he's going to shoot himself, which makes the man laugh as he goes.

"Kiyomi," L starts in a unnervingly kind tone, "I think you need to learn this about Light; he is normally like this. Whatever he's been like with you is just his game face. You're wearing a ring, which means that he doesn't have to bother with pretending to be human anymore. You're hardly going to let him go now that you're realising that he's a terrible person because, let's face it, he's loaded and you're getting on a bit. You better just get used to his sparkling wit and horrible disposition." This stuns the table into silence and L happily leans forwards, takes the smouldering stub of a cigarette from my hand and takes a puff of it as he settles back in victory. "To love and hate, eh, Light?"

"Ooooh, you are pissed off with him, aren't you?" Jeevas wheezes out of his clapped out lungs like he's an emphysemic Sherlock Holmes stumbling upon a clue. No one else seems to know what to do or how to change the course of the conversation, so I'm left to deal with the problem myself by removing it.

"L," I say, standing and motioning for him to follow me as I walk towards the bar. He arrives a minute or so later, by which time I've ordered two glasses of whisky.

"Slap my hand. It was worth every moment," L smirks as he stands alongside me, offering up the back of his hand. He leans on the bar, illuminated by blue lights, and looks beautifully ugly. I look back towards the table and see that they're watching with interest. Maybe they're expecting something dramatic. Don't worry, Kiyomi, I'm not capable of damaging my status and yours as a result. Don't look so fucking concerned.

"No need for that," I say, masking my feelings with a display of friendliness. "I'd just appreciate it if you'd try to be courteous to my fiancée and don't make derogatory remarks about me in her presence."

"You might appreciate it, which is part of the reason why I have no intention of complying. That ring is the gayest thing I have ever seen, and I've been to a Mardi Gras in San Francisco when Danny La Rue was in town. You might as well hang a sign on her with 'beard' written on it in rainbow colours."

"Oh, L, I have missed you. Here, pour that down your throat and drown," I say through a smile, shoving his drink into his hand.

"And, Light, how I've missed you. Your repulsive personality, the passive aggression, your love and death and hate and all that shit in your evil little brain. Wonderful."

"If I didn't know much, much better, I'd think that you didn't like me very much right now."

"The only time I liked you was when your tongue was in my mouth and my dick was in your guts," he says loudly before drinking the whisky. I've never been more grateful to Yura Yura Teikoku for their noisy music which covers this up for me. "Are you going to tell me off or take up the thrill of the chase again? I think that you'd be shit at chasing. Absolute shit. You haven't got the intelligence to chase someone like me, you can only be chased. Have a go, go on."

"No chasing, no telling off. I can just relay some facts to you instead because you clearly need to hear them."

"Is this to do with how I've blown you off in a completely non-sexual way?"

"You haven't. You never can; you're doomed. You're a shipwreck on my fucking rocks."

"The nostalgia had dimmed my memory of your intense arrogance. Thanks for reminding me of it."

"I told you that you'd regret not doing what you were told. You think that you can hold something over me to make me do what you want and then flounce off when you don't get it? Really, I expected better from you."

"Push me, Light," he says, close to my face, his eyes flickering from my eyes to my mouth. "Push me and I'll have some choice words with The Lady and write your resignation letter in the morning."

"For what reason, fucking you and then seeing sense? I'll deny it, obviously. People will believe me. I'm more important than you so who do you think they'd rather lose? And I've got Kiyomi now. You'll just look like some insane man who didn't get anywhere with me and has a grievance. It'd be the end of your career if that came out, wouldn't it? I have _beautiful_  photos of you on my phone; ones that would need a censor bar over the whole thing. I also have your father's home address. Wouldn't Judge Lawliet be thrilled that his favourite son is bringing the tone of the law firm down? I could plaster you all over Tokyo and London and anywhere else you think of running away to. Well, thanks, but I won't hold my breath for my resignation to be announced. I'll see you on the scrapheap, L."

"You know, I don't care. Your threats mean nothing to me. I don't think my career means as much to me as your precious reputation does to you. I'll live in lonely penury, happy that I've destroyed your chances. I don't think Kiyomi will stick around for long when you're unemployed."

I laugh and pat him on the back, leaning in like a comrade. "I don't think you understand, L. You can't do a fucking thing. You can't touch me. I've got more on you than you realise and I can destroy you totally with it. A spin doctor who has an unfortunate habit of sleeping with politicians? No, I don't mean me, because that never happened. Ukita, remember? You gave me that one. Also Aiber in the opposition, so I hear. That definitely doesn't sound good, and I could make up a few others because I have a wonderful imagination. Plus, you've swept a lot of things under the carpet for The Lady. What if all that came out? Imagine. Your friends would probably be ostracised, no one would use your law firm again, you'd bankrupt yourself, lose your houses and your cars and probably bankrupt a few other people besides. Your interesting sway on the press might bring a few companies down. Think of the innocent people who would lose their jobs because of you. I have evidence and notes about everything you've done - the Penber dossier, everything, and the ten o'clock news would bite my arm off to expose it all. They'd have to dedicate an entire programme to it to even try to cover all I have on you in bullet points. Take me on and that'll be the end of you. I have no problem bringing down the government because I'll tear everything apart one way or another. It's not me I'm worried about, it's you. Now, let's be on friendly terms, shall we? It's in your best interests. Kanpai," I say, calmly raising my glass to him while his face tightens over his bones.

"You carnivorous little -"

"Oh, the sweet smell of success," I interrupt, breathlessly ecstatic for a moment. "L, you stubborn fuck, just accept it. If I didn't know that Jeevas would follow me, I'd hammer you in the toilets right now until you bled, I really would. Maybe another time," I look him up and down as I lift my whisky to my mouth. "Definitely another time."

"Yes, definitely. Then I can strangle you in self-defence," he says, grinning at the thought. Oh, I'd love that.

"Ha! Definitely. You know, it doesn't have to be this way. We could go back to doing magnificent things together. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you and you know it. This angry, illogical stance you have isn't going to last."

"If best and worst are interchangeable terms, then yeah, you're the best karma for my crimes that I've ever had. You're getting nowhere here, Light. You're just breathing carbon dioxide into the atmosphere. I'm not giving you anything that you want and I'm not giving you the evidence on The Lady. Not out of loyalty or to protect the government, but just because I don't fucking want to," he says resolutely. No, he's not going to, is he? He's standing too close to me and that's all I can think of.

"You don't have to. I'm not asking for that anymore. Just do your job. Or not. It doesn't matter now. Just be there, L. Your storm is coming," I say, and move slightly to lean on the bar and toss my glass to the barman to fill it up again. He jogs over like an idiot because I'm known for healthy tips.

"What do you mean?" L asks. My drink is filled. The barman is tipped. He fucks off.

"Only that I'll be Prime Minister by the New Year. That's off the record, of course."

"In Wonderland, maybe. How are you thinking of managing that?"

"That's my business. All you have to do is stop fighting me. I'll make it worth your while. We make an excellent team, you know that. You're my favourite person in this whole world. Just think, out of seven billion people, what really were the chances that we'd find each other?"

"It's basic maths, Light. Maths and an unhappy twist of fate."

"No, you're over simplifying it, as usual. Do you think that there's only one perfect person in the world for everyone? I do. There are plenty of practically perfects, but only one absolutely perfect person. And they might have been born in another time. They might already be dead. They might not even have been born during your lifetime, so you'll never know. What you don't know, you can't miss, right?" I say, dragging my fingertip along the rim of my glass which sits on the bar. "But then, I believe in fate. Gods smile on me, so there's no such thing as chance and probabilities. You were born purely for me. And your parents, and their parents, all the way back to the dawn of fucking amoebas, it was all for me. Anyway, bearing that in mind, I'm sure that I'll be able to see my way to tell you what you want to hear and make you believe it. I've practiced by doing the same to Kiyomi and she was very grateful.  _Very_ grateful."

"You're disgusting."

"So you keep telling me. But so are you. I snap my fingers and you come running. It's not your fault, it's just the way things are."

"I'm going to tell your fiancée exactly what she's marrying," he says, glancing pointedly at the table. His top lip is drawn up from anger, exposing his teeth like he's a wild animal. "I might as well tell everyone at that fucking table. Hell, let's just tell the whole room."

"Hey," I laugh, grabbing his arm as he turns to leave. "You need to calm down and take some time to reflect. Kiyomi's very surprising sometimes. You'd like her when you see that I've caught a very impressive fish. Maybe we could get a three-way going sometime? Ha, I'm joking. I'm just glad to see you. It's been a very long time."

"Kiyomi not putting out for you?"

"Yes, but she's still just Kiyomi. You have a key to my apartment still, don't you? Take it as a gift from me. Call it a shag pad on behalf of the Foreign Office."

"I like my massive house in the country more than your tiny apartment, thank you very much. Plus, you'll be in the apartment, so I definitely don't want it."

"I've moved into one of my official residences actually. I'm leasing my apartment for you," I tell him. The realisation hits him so hard that his mouth drops open.

"You arranged this whole thing, didn't you?"

"I might have coerced a security guard to let me into your office after you'd gone home this afternoon. I thought that I'd left my phone in your conference room, you see. At least, that's what I told him. You know how forgetful I am sometimes. I might have looked in your appointments diary while I was there, but it's all hypothetical."

"Fucking hell, Light," he laughs in angry disbelief. I bite my bottom lip as I smile and close my eyes.

"Mmmm... So, wait for me to snap my fingers, ok? Bye, L. Don't bother coming back to the table."

* * *

"I'm just saying that he's... not very nice." Kiyomi says diplomatically. I know that she'd like to just demand that I cut him dead from now on because she doesn't approve of him, and rightly so, but she's too clever to do that. She knows there's a wall in me and that she can only suggest things, hoping that her wisdom might filter through eventually. In another time and place they might have been friends, but with me in the middle and L having offended her so much that she's simmering in hatred for him, it would take a lot for them to stay in the same room with each other now.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch her shift in her seat to readjust her skirt, which is profanely high and it's my fault. I'm driving her home for the touch of respectability during our engagement, although we pulled over for a quick fumble. I thought of L the entire time. I wonder what he's doing now; I picture him in his living room in his leather recliner, reading a book and thumbing my apartment key in one hand with his marble, handless, tiny dicked kouros behind him... But I shake myself back to Kiyomi.

"I understand why you think that but he's really not so bad. He's just socially challenged and isn't good with strangers," I explain.

"If you say so, Light. Just don't invite him to the wedding, ok?" she asks, dropping the vanity mirror down to reapply her lipstick for her mother's benefit. No, Mrs Takada, I wouldn't lay a hand on your daughter. We're as sexless as you are and I'm Prince fucking Charming.

"Hmmm..." I acquiesce, though the thought hadn't even occurred to me. I check my face in the rear view mirror to find that my mouth and cheek is smeared with her lipstick like some crudely painted blackberry stain. Fuck, it's everywhere.

"He's just another mouth to feed anyway. We haven't had one decline to the invites yet, you know? They're so greedy. Having two ceremonies is bad enough, but the reception will ruin us financially and I really didn't want to have to go into my inheritance fund just to to pay for kombu for people I can't stand."

"I'm paying."

"No, we're in this together, it's only fair. I'm a feminist and equality means total equality. I can't bend the rules because I don't like paying. Just... please, don't invite him or anyone else. The guest list is horrendous as it is. I think we should show our faces at the reception, smile at the speeches and then disappear. I might change our flight to an earlier one."

"I wouldn't dream of inviting him. Not if it'll upset you," I say, making myself sound devoted although I doubt that L would go. I honestly wouldn't invite him anyway. I'm not sure that he could get through the day without making some scene. Kiyomi looks at me with a soft expression and with her lips half-painted.

"You're so understanding," she sighs, turning back to finish her lipstick. "He was so rude and you make all kinds of excuses for his behaviour. I'm just relieved that you decided on Touta for best man instead of Teru. Urgh, I don't even want to begin to imagine how awful Teru's speech would have been. Better Touta's 'nice and dull' than shocking, drug-fillled revelations about your sordid past."

"Ha! Sordid, Kiyomi? You think that I'm sordid?"

"I wouldn't love you so much if you weren't a little bit sordid. You're. Absolutely. Perfect," she says unemotionally, singling out each word as she slicks on a final layer of war paint in the mirror. A red slash in a perfect face.

"Absolutely perfect," I repeat quietly to myself like a mantra. "Isn't it a good trait for a politician to be understanding?"

"Yes, but not to a fault."

"L and Mikami have been good friends to me."

"Just don't make any mistakes with the friends you choose. Seriously, I'm only ever thinking of you."

Yes she's thinking of me, but mostly she's thinking of herself. I'd be the same if I was in her position, so I can't blame her. L and Kiyomi are in different solar systems to me, so it doesn't matter if they despise each other privately while I'm a link in the chain. I consider telling Kiyomi about L. I don't think that she'd mind much since she's very open-minded in that respect and isn't the jealous type. She doesn't have L's righteousness or sense of entitlement where I'm concerned, which makes her a tonic for me. She knows about Naomi (not that I told her; I think that Naomi must have bragged years ago), but her self-assurance is so immense that it's almost as if she likes how close our little clique really is. Also, she went through a phase of putting a face to an adversary, which seemed to amuse her; 'Did she do this to you? Can she do the things that I do? Who's better?' The depraved, beautiful bitch likes to hear me compare and contrast. But in terms of L, it's best that she's left ignorant. Because I might have to lie then, and I think that she'd know.

* * *

I walk around the PR department unseen, hanging around the coffee machine with a good view of L's office. I'm mostly hidden by a pillar and a pot plant, which is slightly embarrassing. It's Amazonian in here with all the fucking plants and trees scattered around. L's due for a meeting with Watari and The Lady. I know because Watari told me this morning. Mihael walks out of the office first and almost immediately drops some paperwork. As he scrabbles on the floor to pick it up, L walks behind him, looks down, and smiles at how pathetic his employee is.

"I always did like a man on their knees, Mihael, but you really shouldn't feel that you have to try so hard to earn your pay rise," L tells him, making him laugh.

"Take the fucking things and go," Mihael says as he stands to pass L the papers.

"Goodbye, darling. I set sail and it may be many years until we see each other again," he offers with a sad salute.

"I hate you and I want to die."

"That's not the first time I've ever heard that," L replies as he leaves, and I slink further behind the pillar as he walks past. L's new secretary, who sits at her desk outside L's office like a guard dog, looks like my old one. It is! The one I booted out for Kiyomi - what the very fuck? She laughs to herself, stopping abruptly when Mihael calls her a fag hag.

I check to make sure that L's out of sight before I head towards Mihael like I've just arrived. My ex-secretary is apparently still angry with me. I don't know why, it's not like I owed her anything. She tries to exert some dominance while scowling at me with her sulky heifer face as I breeze into L's office, but obviously thinks better of it.

"Hi, Mihael!" I say to his back in my friendliest tone. "No big cheese today?"

"You've just missed him actually," he replies, startled as I appear behind him. He's wearing leather trousers, which don't seem particularly appropriate. Perhaps he's trying to reform The Village People?

"Shit, that's a shame. Actually, I wanted to speak to you too. Are you busy?" I ask, and walk into L's office.

"I am, actually... um..." he mumbles as I sit behind L's desk and look at all the crap spread across the surface. The top of a photo frame pokes out between the stacks of paper, so I pluck it out of the mess and dust it off.

"Don't worry, he won't mind. My fault, I should have called first," I say holding the photo in both hands in my lap. It's of L and an older man, and L looks younger, maybe early twenties, and unusually smiley. Oh, you poor thing. You've been beaten down by life and me, haven't you?

"I could ring him now," Mihael suggests. It sounds like more of a threat. He doesn't like this situation. It probably goes against some law that L's laid down. I'm going to have to work hard to win him over, so I put the photo flat on L's desk and lean back in his chair to look at the blond fop.

"No, don't bother him if he's busy. How's he been lately?"

"He seems fine to me. Why?"

"I don't know if he told you... I mean, I know he thinks very highly of you, but we fell out a few months ago. It was over something really stupid and I just don't know how to make it right with him. He makes it difficult, you know what he's like."

"He didn't mention anything," he replies, looking like he's preparing to press a panic button.

"Really?"

"Apart from to tell me never to put any of your calls through, or let you come within fifty feet of his office and his diary, or talk to you ever again because if I do then he'll sack me. I think that means that he wouldn't want you in his office, in his chair, or in the building. Yet here you are."

"What do you mean about his diary?" I say, leaning forward with fake concern.

"He said that you checked it and arranged for us to go to the same restaurant that he was going to, on the same night, at the same time."

I stare at him for a moment as if he's talking to me in Swedish, then fall back with a pained laugh. "And how did I do that? Break in? Oh God, he's lost the fucking plot," I exhale sadly, letting my head fall and hang over the back of the chair. My desperate state must make Mihael feel some pity for me.

"But if you leave now, I won't tell him that you were here." He sounds like a policeman offering to let me off for some speeding fines.

"Don't you want to know why he's angry with me?" I ask.

"I'm not paid to care about what anyone does here," he answers, moving fluidly, like a cat, towards me. He picks up L's diary, which is directly in front of me, and puts it on his own desk fifteen feet away. "I have stuff of my own to worry about," he continues. "I just work here. I got a sense at the restaurant that you weren't his favourite person, but he doesn't mention you, Yagami."

"Light, please," I say.

"Light, then," he says coldly. "He still doesn't mention you."

"But you're friends, right? I know that L thinks of you as his friend, not just his assistant. He must be difficult to work for since he's a bit tempestuous sometimes."

"I've worked for worse."

"Oh, I bet. Yakuza, wasn't it?"

He straightens immediately, his face betrays him. "What?"

"L told me about your criminal record. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," I smile sympathetically. "We all make bad decisions sometimes and fall in with the wrong people. I'm all for integrating felons back into society, so I think of you as a success story."

"L told you?" he asks. No, he can't believe it, and that's probably because L didn't tell me; I found out for myself. I launch into my well-crafted lie with gusto.

"He didn't have a choice really. Don't mention this to him because he would feel humiliated if he found out that you knew. He'd also kill me if he knew that I'd told you, so please don't. I just think that you have a right to know. Things is, he found out that The Lady launched an unofficial inspection of employee's records last year. L brought you with him, so you went under the radar at the time, but they would have found out. I wiped your record because I have access to the records office, the mainframe, and I have a few contacts in the NPA. L doesn't."

"Jesus," Mihael exclaims, rubbing his head. "Well, uh, thanks. I guess."

I wave a dismissive hand. "Just don't mention it. Forget all about it. I'm not supposed to be able to know about these things. I have friends in certain places, that's all. I know that you don't trust me or like me so -"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to. It's the politician thing, right? I'm used to it. I probably wouldn't trust me either."

"I don't distrust you because you're a politician..." he starts before drifting off, realising how big a hole he's digging for himself.

"It's my fault then," I say sadly. "I must have given you the impression that I'm not trustworthy. But I need your help, Mihael, please."

"I don't know what I can do to help."

"Does he have any plans after work tonight?" I ask quickly, like gunfire.

"Uh..."

"Do  _you_?"

"What?"

"Don't look so worried, God!" I laugh. "Jeevas and I and a few others are meeting up for dinner after work and I just wondered if you'd like to join us. Nothing vaguely perverted, I promise. Oh, and I took your advice by the way. Had a seventies sound system shipped over from abroad from a collector who's on his last legs."

"You did?"

"You're welcome to come and try it out sometime."

"Oh. Yeah, I'd like that."

"Bought his vinyl collection too. I think there's about a thousand LPs." And he gasps. Maybe I should have started with this line of attack.

"A thousand?" he asks.

"Give or take."

"Which ones have you got?"

"Fuck, I have no idea. I'm trying to work through them but I don't have that much time nowadays for things like that. Call me anytime and have a look through them. If there are any you'd really like, have them."

"Seriously?"

"I'm never not serious. Someone might as well make use of them because at the moment it doesn't look like I'll be able to listen to them until my retirement. So, L. The situation is a bit awkward but... um."

"Don't tell me," he says, closing up again. "I don't want to know. I like being ignorant. I kind of respect my boss and I don't think I could if you tell me the details."

"What? Hold on, did he tell you that we were seeing each other? What has he been telling people? Fuck me."

"What you and L do in your spare time is up to you two."

"No, Mihael, no, nothing like that. He's just my friend, but I think he likes me a bit more than that, if you know what I mean. Hazard of life, I guess."

"But... It doesn't matter. I'm sorry but, even though I'm just an assistant, I have stuff to do or L will bollock me for slacking off."

"Ha! Yeah, but I've got to clear this up if L is telling you lies. We're not and we never have. Take it from me, because L's got a couple of screws loose upstairs. You saw Kiyomi. That's all I'm saying. Apart from to say that she's the reason that L's pissed off with me. I mean, the way he spoke to her was not on."

"That was quite polite for him, I thought."

"Well it fucked me right off. She's been really sympathetic towards him as well. I think she feels guilty, and I can't have that. Anyway, that's the situation. Just keep in it mind if he starts dreaming, ok? I have no idea what he's told you, but it's all in his head."

"As I said, it's nothing to do with me."

"Not the same for him though, is it? He was telling you who you could and couldn't be friends with at the restaurant," I remind him, adjusting my shirt at the wrists. Beau Brummell set the standard of having a thumbnail's width of shirt cuff showing under your jacket. I try to continue this fastidiousness.

"He was only joking," Mihael says, and I laugh at his naïvety.

"Look, I love the bastard, I do, but he doesn't joke. He sees you as his entitlement. I just wanted to set you straight, y'know? I'll let you go. Oh, could you get me a coffee, please? It was a long run over here from the Foreign Office."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thanks. You've got my number, haven't you? Call me any time to have a look through the vinyl."

"Ok. Thanks, Yagami."

"For fuck's sake, Mihael. Call me Light, will you?" He smiles briefly and seems nervous about leaving me in the office, but he goes. He can't really throw me out or ask me to leave because that's not how things work. While he's gone, I put the photo into my briefcase and scan L's desk again. How can anyone work like this? When Mihael comes back a few minutes later, I'm waiting outside near my awful sour-faced ex-secretary, and he looks incredibly relieved to see me out of the office. "Thanks. Mmmm... ambrosia," I say cheerily, and sip the horrible, gravy-like black coffee. "Right, I better head back. See you. And call me, ok? Kiyomi would love to see you too."

"Ok," he replies, his brow furrowing a little again with some invented emotional stress. What a cunt. He must be really good at handjobs or something. Why else would L keep him around?

"Great. And don't look so fucking frightened, yeah? Christ on a bike, as L would say," I laugh, walking backwards for a few steps. "Don't worry about him, it'll all work itself out. He can't be angry with me forever."

* * *

Three weeks to the day later, Kiyomi's sister in Hong Kong died suddenly. Too young. How sad. And she was so pretty too.

I paid for Kiyomi and her mother to go over there for a month to arrange the funeral and help the suicidal widower and their children sort through her effects and settle into life without her. Kiyomi wasn't terribly close to the eldest of her three sisters, which is just as well, but she went to support her mother and because the press would publicise it sensitively and affectionately. It would reflect well on both of us; how our wedding was preceded by tragedy, the supportive but hardworking groom-to-be, the devastated but tower of strength bride-to-be. We talked about setting up a charity in her name as that would also be good for the media. Kiyomi would be president, raising funds and offering emotional support to the families of young victims of sudden heart attacks, like her sister. She had to be seen as her own person, and a good person.

Sayu and Touta drove us to the airport to support Kiyomi and because I couldn't be expected to drive myself. Tradition tells us that during times of sadness, someone else drives the car. For some reason, Touta thinks that I must be upset as well. We wait near the boarding gate like a badly attended funeral. I can't go with Kiyomi, obviously. God, no. I don't want to. I have other things to do anyway, but officially, work prevents me. The paparazzi hang around the airport snapping photos of us in our grief-stricken silence. I'm wearing a dark grey suit, matching shirt, but no tie. It wouldn't be appropriate to look like I'd made too much effort. Kiyomi wore a black suit and dark sunglasses to hide how her eyes are not swollen. When they were called for boarding, old Mrs Takada kissed me on my cheek and stepped aside for Kiyomi to rub her hands along the length of my arms like she was ironing out some creases in me.

"Do you love me?" she asks, not seeming terribly interested either way.

"Like murder," I whisper back. She smiles and kisses me lightly on the lips, pulls away slowly, and leaves. I hope the press print that one.

* * *

After being dropped back home by Sayu and Touta, I shower and change before spending my day in solitary silence, staring at the clock on the wall for hours and waiting. I have the television on mute and I think how nice it would be if you could do that to people; mute them, or put them in stand-by, or just switch them off. While I wait, Mikami texts me, asking if I'd like to have a drink with him and Jeevas. Absolutely fucking not. This is an important day for me. I'm going to be in the news and I'm not going to waste this day on them. Of course, I don't tell him that, but I play vague and ask if anyone else is going. Apparently Touta is, and Mihael  _was_ , but he cancelled because he has to work late at the office. Oh. That's interesting.

I've put the photo of L and his old bastard judge father on the wall of my office with some other 'friends' and family photographs so it doesn't look out of place. Earlier on, I put post-its over the faces of everyone else, but I'll have to take them off at some point, I suppose. L's idiotic smile beams at my back as I stare at the clock, and I wonder if I would have liked him then, if he was that age now, or if I was my age then. I wonder what he was like. He wears his age like he's proud of it and that it's a miracle that he's still alive. I really can't imagine the boy in the photograph. There's nothing there to suggest that he would be any different from everyone else.

The TV is still on mute and news flashes on repeat within a bar at the bottom of the screen but I don't really take any notice, I'm not mentioned. I feel strange, like I'm watching New Year fireworks completely alone. There's not much time; an hour, maybe two.

* * *

I feel like an impostor as I walk into the building and sign in, mostly because of my casual clothing. It is Saturday, and late. L probably works harder than anyone here, although he gives the impression that he doesn't work at all. He protects the reputations of people who don't deserve it.

The PR floor is dark apart from the translucent glow between the blinds of L's office, and I enter it without knocking. I am intent and will see satisfaction. All the best things in my life must interconnect for me in this short time, and my blood fizzes as I sense it all overlapping now, knowing what I know. I'm shocked when I immediately see L sitting behind his desk. I hardly expected him to be there, living, with charcoal skyscrapers behind him, and he makes me inhale stupidly. Mihael and he both stare at me like I'm a suicide bomber.

"Let's go to Church."

My voice doesn't sound like my own, like I have no control over how my resolution seeps into it deeply, making it sound carnal. L's face splits with different emotions; his eyes shine with a smile while his mouth drops open slightly. After a beat, he stands suddenly and grabs his coat.

"Mihael, my phone is on vibrate," he says. Mihael scrunches up a confused expression as L starts throwing things into his briefcase.

"I'm in mourning," I explain to anyone who's listening. Neither of them seem interested in why I might be in mourning. L's too busy trying to get out of here, and Mihael just doesn't care.

"But... You're going to church?" Mihael asks L. "Since when are you religious?"

"Since now. I saw the light. No pun intended," L answers, slinging his coat over one arm. "Actually, go home. Don't phone me."

"Great!" Mello exclaims, checking the time quickly and standing to shrug on the leather jacket which hung over the back of his chair. "L, I'm still on double time until ten, right?"

"Triple, whatever," L replies as he walks past me. I follow.

Church, of course, means the House after L jokingly referred to it as such once. It's empty apart from a skeleton crew of security guards, and the sound of our footsteps bounces off the walls. Without exchanging a word between his office and here, and while I lean against a pillar in the lobby at a fair distance, L pays off security to turn off the closed circuit cameras and fuck off for an hour, which they were more than happy to do. Everyone has a price apart from me. The excuse is that I am rehearsing an emergency, very important and top-secret speech, the made-up content being boring enough for them not to care.

We walk into the chamber and, even when lit by the many glass lamps suspended from the ceiling, the room is still dim in how closeted it is from the world. There are no windows, and without them it makes me doubt that there really is an outside at all. It feels more real in here anyway. It's a wooden earth within the earth, and from here all decisions are made which dictate how people must live their lives. I take off my coat and let it lie over the back of one of the benches as L locks the massive doors from the inside. I've never been in here without it being full of politicians, and the vastness and emptiness strikes a new reverence into me. It's the court room of life, a cathedral of law, and I wouldn't be here with anyone else. But I almost forget that he's here. Only the dull echo of the doors being locked stiffly into place remind me that I'm not alone, and this place makes me feel alone. It bears down like it knows me and all I've done to be here.

I keep walking, passing the curving wooden lines in this half circle made up of benched segments. Your placement here relates to your status and worth. Once, I sat at the back, where everything sounded distant and I heard little but the coughs and breaths of those in front of me. They blocked my view and thought that I was just like them and that I would never move from that spot. They never thought once in their lives, never did anything worthwhile, and they will stay that way. They will be my numbers on sheets. I walk past their ghosts and the ghosts of those who took these seats in lives before ours, all the way back, and they've been waiting for me like a patient audience all this time. They face a kind of stage of engraved paneling in red wood, like blood runs behind it, and I sit in The Lady's usual seat, observing the view from this new position. It is almost ethereal until L sits next to me and reminds me that I am actually here, aren't I? I'm not walking through a dream I had once. There's more to me than my mind, and this is mine.

"This was a good idea of yours," he says. "Every minute you're not with me is an absolute waste. You know that, don't you?"

I can't reply to that, only close my eyes and incline my lazy head towards his. We shouldn't speak, we don't have permission, but his voice sounds warm in this dead place. If he feels the need to flatter me here then that's fine, but I doubt that he means it. He says things sometimes, these little snow jobs covered in honey, but they're ultimately self-serving and he really shouldn't waste his words on me. They're almost insulting, but I missed them.

Maybe he should be told now, but it can wait. I strain obscenely as he touches me through the fabric of my trousers. "Look where we are," I tell him, and suddenly, somehow, his mouth is on mine. I taste the sugar and caffeine there, and quicken for him. It's such an alien feeling after nothing but cold contrivance for so long, and I let myself collapse and twist into it. With my eyes closed like this, I could be anywhere, so I let my hand fall to my side and grip the edge of the bench to keep this building in my thoughts and combine it with him. It brings me some kind of fervour and knocks me out of my dreamlike stupor. I become an insurgence against him in this battlefield between us. I love that he's with me, I hate that he's been such righteous bastard for weeks and weeks and weeks. I'm trying to tell him that while my hand aches from grounding myself, digging the sharp edges of the bench into my palm. He must understand, he must do, because he's kissing me back with the same ferocity and it's not fucking Disney, no. No one is like him, and my lungs are burning like I've been running for years. I have been running for years.

Then we part, he leaves me completely and without my permission. My eyes open in disbelief to see the incredibly self-satisfied, triumphant look on his face.

"You think I've surrendered, don't you?" I ask.

"I was too busy to think, Light," he says smugly, leaning back, and he delicately touches where I've made a tousled mess of his hair, like it's proof of something. He always moves with a controlled listlessness while everyone else looks like they're trapped in a cage of awkward, rigid physicality. I admire and despise how his self-assurance shows itself in this determined rejection of conventions, my conventions. He denies it like he's an alter-ego, showing me how relaxed I could be about life. He thinks that I'm weak for him and that I should just accept it, doesn't he? My anger is so intense that my backbone feels like it's fused together. I don't think that I've ever felt this angry. It's like I've been humiliated and I couldn't possibly feel more outraged than I do now. But then he smirks again, knowing that I'm watching him for just one more offensive action or word, and he starts taking off his cufflinks.

As he dips his head forward, my eyes spring to the exposed nape of his neck and I grab it, throwing all my weight behind it to drive him onto the floor. It makes a pleasing solid sound combined with the air being knocked out of him. He breathes out a laugh with his face pressed hard against the ground, so I restrain his arms behind his back. He suddenly seems very thin and breakable to me. Maybe if I break his bones then I'll break him? That's a nice question to give into for a second. I imagine the carnage and the utterly broken man and my lack of regret. But I would regret it. Anything spontaneous can only end in mistakes, and I'd want him back the way he is now, fighting me and denying me and telling me that I'm nothing and that I need him. He might be too fragile for this tepid roughhousing, but then I can't imagine him not being able to take anything I give him. "Have you ever done this in the House before?" I whisper into his ear.

"Once or twice," he replies with difficulty, but smiling. He actually cannot stop smiling, even with my knee in his back, so I press down harder in shock and frustration. He's lying. He must be lying. When I don't say anything in return, he tries to look behind him as far as his neck will allow him to. "Why, would this be a totally new experience for you?"

"When?"

"A year or so back."

"You hypocritical shit, I could catch something from you!" My anger flares up and I must loosen my grip on his arms because he swiftly turns around, elbowing me in the chest and slamming me onto my back instead. As if trying to mimic what I'd done to him, he places his knee firmly in my stomach while he takes off his jacket and wickedly smiles down upon me.

"I don't know what to say, Light. I'm a very bad man."

I massage his knee which is heavy on me and feel my muscles fighting against the pressure of it. I can only imagine the bruise I'll have there. God, I can't wait to see it. "You  _are_  a very bad man," I agree slowly.

"But it was quite disappointing," he continues, loosening his tie with one hand. He looks like he's preparing to be knighted. "The man in question didn't recognise the symbolism, which took all the joy out of it for me."

"I see the symbolism."

"I know." He starts pulling my sweater off, yanking my shoulder painfully after he throws his tie aside. "Now, I'm not going to the chemist right now, so this could be very painful for one or both of us, and I have a very high pain threshold, so I think it's going to be you."

"Really? I don't think so," I say, pulling out the bottle from my pocket. He takes it from me, tosses it his hand and flips open the lid.

"You always come prepared, like a boy scout," he mutters, sniffing the contents of the bottle. He makes me feel sick. "I was useless at being a scout, though they did teach me that this stuff is a necessity. It's probably where I learned it in the first place."

"Is that what they you teach there?"

"I was with a lot of upper class, over-Latined, over-sexed boys in a tent. What do you think?"

"This is very irritating."

"Yes, but everyone should retain the use of their sphincters," he says blithely. "It's a basic human right."

"No, I mean you sitting on me while you talk about the boy scouts. You better let me the fuck go, or I'll have to smash your face into the wall."

His smiles spreads at my threat, and he pulls away to stand and start taking his belt off. "What are you waiting for then?" he asks me.

Like it's a race, we both rush to get our trousers off as quickly as possible. Of course he's ready before me, the bastard is vertical, and he cheerfully yanks my trousers off like I was a magic act. I hardly have a chance to move before he's upon me again, and it's all too impatient for this place at first. I bring his face to mine, liking how leans up to me like an obedient servant. I can feel the pulse in his throat even from here, and I realise that I could choke him. I could suffocate him like this. Just hold him here and cover his mouth with mine, like this, and squeeze my hands around his throat until I crush his voice and everything inside until he leaves me the fuck alone. But I don't do that, I slow the kiss into something I might have even considered boring once, but the thought is there and the only thing stopping me is myself.

The idea that I could kill him makes me dizzy like he makes me dizzy and to avoid falling backwards, I curl forwards to wrap my arms around him. He kisses me more forcefully again then, which is at odds with how gently his hand runs down the curve of my back before he lies down on top of me. I didn't think this through properly. This is going to be messy. It always is. I'll probably have to come back later with some furniture polish and carpet cleaner. But I shouldn't think of things like that right now.

I inhale the dark scent of his skin and hair and wonder why the fuck we haven't done this earlier. It's his fault. Then he's gone again. My reactions seem delayed by the intensity as he rolls my knees up to my chest and lifts the back of my thighs to raise me higher. He's too tender sometimes. It's annoying. Above my head is more of the wood paneling, stretching on forever, broken only by baroque wallpaper and framed by heavy velvet drapes. I don't know what L's doing because I don't care. I'm hardly here. There's a physical need to catch up with him, I feel it dimly, but he won't let me. I want to stop and for him to just stay there for a while so I can take in this place and what it's saying to me because I can't hear it, I can only hear us breathing. It needs to become a part of me before I can do anything else, and I've realised that too late. He presses the tip of a finger inside me, which makes my head fall back and hit the floor hard as he mercilessly tries to ease the restriction like a clumsy fuck. As my head spins, I can only think of the white columns holding this place up. I'd like to tear them down so there's only rubble around us and blue skies above, always.

"It feels like..." I say breathlessly, but he doesn't hear me, or he doesn't care.

He helps me angle my hips for him and I relax enough to let him slide into me. He starts, finds a pace, and I shiver with the exquisite pain of being invaded. I wanted this, I just imagined it the other way around because this is my building. I did need it here, it's just strange because maybe I'm just a passenger to him now. He makes me feel like that and I don't know why. There's no way out, he surrounds me, and I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to it. All I feel is thankfulness when his face presses against mine.

His voice murmurs something into my hair. It sounds like English, at once like birds in flight and guttural, but I don't understand. Because of that, I grasp his face and bring it to my hungry mouth. He's heavy on me, and he's so light normally, barely there at all, but everything is amplified and somehow something as simple as breathing seems like such an effort. I have to concentrate for a second to try and regulate things. But then, this doesn't mean anything if it doesn't hurt.

I encircle his shoulders and waist as he moves inside me, moving back and forth as his mouth locks onto mine roughly, but even that feels like silk against silk now and I want something else. This seems to go on forever so I turn to see everything spread away from me instead. The patterns and shapes move with me and shudder, and I'm moving because of him. It's a spiralling vine from where I am, and the floor is rough against my shoulders. It disappears when I close my eyes, and comes back when I open them. I think that someone's calling my name from far away and tilt my head back, but there's nothing, nothing but moaning. Then I see him again and wonder how long he's been kissing me like that, wherever he can reach me. Sweat stings my eyes as he places loose, wet, biting, rhythmic grazes on my skin like he's angry with me for not giving him my full attention but he's trying not to care. I think for a moment how stupid and beautiful he looks, because he's such a liar.

"Stop being nice to me," I whisper brokenly into his mouth. "I might as well get fucked by somebody's grandmother." He smiles against my mouth and I smile too in expectation. Try and make it interesting for me.

He increases the strokes with a fluidity and depth. The change in pace makes me gasp as I tighten around him and claw at his back. My nails scrape underneath his shirt and it feels damp and warm like he is, all over. I must have hurt him, I suppose, because he pulls my hips closer to him and violently thrusts into me.

All I feel is heat and time passing and I want to disappear inside it. It radiates, and I can taste the coppery salt of sweat on his skin as my lips drag across his chin. With each thrust I feel myself coming apart from the inside and my stomach aches from it because I've been waiting for this for a long time. He hits something which is so rarely touched that it makes me want to cry for a second, and I press my eyes into his shoulder to see pulpits superimposed in the darkness with rays of light. Pulpits and books and cheering fucking crowds. Rivers of writhing people all shining with blood. He throbs in me and I feel myself stream between us while he trembles and struggles to even gasp for a breath.

The warmth against our bellies is slick and I bite his lip, tasting blood in both our mouths. I tighten around him so hard as I come that I more or less demand that he follow. He has to learn the way things are now and this is a good lesson for him. But something changes within me suddenly; when his body undulates, I feel dead inside. I can hardly feel it now. I'm done. Just the swell of him as he comes inside me, buried in me. I want him to stay there forever, although I'm not sure how I'd explain it when the House reconvenes on Monday. This is so disgusting, it's wonderful. And over.

I'm all to the winds as he pulls himself out of me slowly. I lie still, can't even hear my own heart beat, just some pressure in my head as I gaze up at the ceiling again. I thought I saw something dark up there, looking down on us. Some gargoyle of fate.

So I lie there as L slams against the floor beside me and looks what I'm looking at, but not seeing what I see.

"The Lady's dead," I whisper, as I can hardly breathe, only force out words with rasps of air.

"What?" he asks, not really listening. I like the sound of his breathing, it's like a metronome winding down.

"She left a suicide note about her involvement in the oil conspiracy. She recommended me to be her successor."

I sense his head snap around to look at me as I stare at the ceiling. There's only silence then, but I can almost hear echoes of us in this room. Then he starts to laugh.


	8. Psychosis on The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The Errol Flynn death trivia herein is definitely not true. He generally lived himself to death, although I'm not sure if his girlfriend could have helped much.

Sitting on top of her, with my hips locked so she can't move if I won't let her. Her hands are on my back, and they just stay there like she's just posed and rigid while I move beneath them as liquid would. Beautiful, long, thin fingers - like his - with polished glass tips spread out over my skin. Her hair is like his. I could almost believe it as long as she doesn't say anything and I ignore things. Suddenly, I don't want to be near her. I don't want her anywhere near my face. I sit up straight and look at the wall in front of me until I see through it, rushing through, knocking down walls until I can see blue skies right through the middle like my eyes just blasted a hole through the building. It's amazing. How did I do that? And the hovering black, crow-like thing there, floating. He looks at me and I look at him. I wish he'd come closer.

"Light?" My head spins towards the voice and my back twists to follow it. L's standing in the doorway, just staring at me. Where did he come from? My forehead feels like stone as it sets in confusion, and I look down at the girl. There is no girl. There's no hole through wall. He broke it. "Are you ok?"

And even though I'm still looking at the wall waiting for it to collapse again, it doesn't, and I can see him as if I'm standing in front of me. I can see me, and him behind me. His feet are chopped off by my shoulder.

"Yeah. Is that coffee?" I ask, sitting on the bed to face him and his spider-like fingers which are wrapped around a holder with two cups lodged inside.

"Yes," he says falteringly, because he wants to say something else, something more. He keeps looking between me and the wall behind me.

"L," I breathe out, and hold my arm out towards him. I feel tired and my eyes droop like my heavy smile. He doesn't move for a moment, and I think that maybe he'll never move. But then he walks towards me, but not to me, to the table at the side of me, and puts the coffee on the top of it. I lean forwards and hold his legs loosely as I press my face into his hip. It's so sharp and unforgiving and better than pillows, so I close my eyes. I just hear a shuffle as he pushes some books aside to fit both of the coffees on the table, and feel the weight of his hand on my head as it traces and falls down the back of my neck on this misty morning. It's like there's a slow, quiet fog in the room and everything has stopped. He turns towards me and my head rolls with him. My tip of my nose hits his belt and it's cold but I don't open eyes. My forehead is on his stomach, which is just like a piece of board it's so flat. When I open my eyes, I can almost see the weave of his jacket. My hands fan out behind him and I lift my head to sit straight, grabbing his lapels to pull them back over his shoulders.

"Oh no," he laughs softly, stepping away from me so I lose my weak grasp of him. The fabric drags through my hands like sand.

"Come here."

"No, you're not good for me."

"Don't be stupid. Come here," I tell him. I'm so tired and he's a massive, massive tease, but I don't have to wait long. He puts his hand flat on my forehead like he's blessing me, and I almost laugh, but I close my eyes again as he pushes my head back. His palm drags me backwards, moving itself across my skull, through my hair, until I'm in the position he wants me to be so he doesn't have to lean down far to kiss me. He wakes me up and my hands wander up his back so he can't leave. When I'm on my back and I've pulled him down too, I roll him over and never stop kissing him, never. Always connected by these fat little pads of skin. I feel him even when he's not here.

"Light."

"Shhhhh..." I grip his jaw in my one hand, just one hand. How dare he go. Get clothes on and go like that without me knowing. His hair is damp and he's all squeaky clean again like I'd never been there. I pull at his tie. A red tie. Like a line of blood running down from his throat.

"Light, no," he sighs, putting his hand on mine as it unknots his tie.

"I haven't finished with you yet."

"No. I have to go back to work and I think this is the point of death."

"Nah, you could go another round," I breathe out, not wanting to disturb the silence.

"I really can't. Do that and I'll be Errol Flynn."

"Hmmm?"

"He's a dead actor. You know how he was supposed to have died? Just gossip, of course, but apparently some young thing fucked him to death like he was a stud horse. Fucked him to death, aided by his years of drink and drugs. He had a bachelor pad called 'Cirrhosis-by-the-Sea'."

"Ha."

"Yes, so I suggest, and it's only a suggestion, that you piss off and leave my poor heart alone for a while and drink your coffee."

I sit straight and stretch, letting my head fall back and around. "Nnnnn... ok. But only because I don't want you to die." I move off him to sit against the bedhead, reaching for the coffees and popping the plastic lids off as he sits up slowly. I think he's disappointed.

"Good decision. It wouldn't look good for the press anyway. I'm grateful."

"Where have you been? You've been to work on a Sunday?"

"It's not just any Sunday. It's Black Sunday. I just dropped into the office to find out more about The Lady. Got changed," he says, fixing and straightening his tie. Yes, it is a different suit and shirt and tie and everything. I didn't notice. "There was a lot of press going on without my involvement, and as Press Relations, I should relate. Don't you want to know the news?" he asks, taking his coffee from me.

"Not really."

"Ok."

"What's the news?" I sigh. I should know. The heat from the cardboard cup seeps into my hand and the coffee is bitter in my mouth.

"You were right," he says, stirring sugar into his coffee. "Suicide. Autopsy results will be in this afternoon, but it looks like an overdose."

"Oh."

"So."

"So?"

"We better get your candidacy papers written up and submitted. You should make a statement to the press announcing your deep regret. Yes. Deep regret, but nothing too committed right now. No legacies or anything. Best not rave about her because it'll sound hollow when the whole thing comes out. I'll keep it short."

"I can write the statement."

"Yes," he smiles as he remembers that I'm capable of such a thing. "I'm sorry. Politicians writing their own statements, whatever next? Email it to me, will you? Soon as you can. We need it circulating."

"Are you going to miss her?" I ask, looking at the frothy mess on my coffee.

"She was just another client to me, Light. These things happen. Why, will you?"

"No. But it's sad."

"Sad, is it?" He sips his coffee. "I couldn't find much out about the note, so I called the Chief of the NPA, and yeah, it's what you heard. We might edit out the oil conspiracy, I don't know. If you heard rumours about it as early as last night then it might be quite hard to contain. Might as well let it fly. It'll come out anyway so there's not much point, but you know Watari. He still thinks that if click your heels together three times and pretend that something didn't happen, it didn't happen."

"Do you have to go back in?" I ask, and he nods once. "Can't you work from here? Use my phone." He smiles into his coffee. "What?"

"You surprise me," he says, then looks like he's swallowing painfully before he puts his cup back on my table.

"You know, you really don't look like you're at the point of death yet."

"Thank you."

"Stay a bit longer."

"Write that statement and I'll bring your candidacy papers over in an hour."

"No, I'll come with you."

"I don't have time to wait for you, I'm afraid," he says, not looking terribly sad about it as he stands up. "Sort yourself out, Light. Eat something."

I stretch again as he leaves, taking his coffee with him. My body feels like it's just held together by wires and metal.

* * *

Eventually I do sort myself out and make my way into the office. I text L to let him know, and it's nice to get a reply after months of it being a dead line to me. There are a lot of other people in the building, considering that it's a Sunday, and I get confused and keep thinking that it's Monday. L and Mihael let themselves into my office. I haven't had the inclination to find a new secretary since Kiyomi resigned when we got engaged, not that a secretary could stop them anyway. L finds it his right to go wherever he pleases, whenever he pleases, and never had time for knocking. This time though, I have an idea of what he's bringing me, so I stop circling and circling and circling an error I made in my statement, and place my pen flat on the table.

L leans against the wall to the side of the door and Mihael drops an envelope on the table for me before backing off to stand with L. I open it with both of them standing there watching me. They look like they're up against a firing squad, although their languid air and L's barely contained smirk wouldn't really suit impending death. Mihael looks slightly ill as it is, because he's clearly been awake all night and is desperately hungover.

It's my statement of candidacy.

"Thank you, Mihael," I say, and he looks to L, unsure of what the words mean coming from me. I turn the page over briefly, because somehow I expected there to be something on the other side.

"It's ok. Go home and get some sleep," L tells him. "Look better tomorrow."

"I look fine."

"You really don't, darling. And since how you look accounts for more than half of the reasons why I hired you, I say that you should go to bed. There's a good boy." Mihael leaves immediately, and thankfully probably, letting the door snap shut. I'm not sure why L brought him. Maybe so he too could experience such a historic moment. "Well, Prime Minister. Are you ready?" L asks me.

"You drafted this?" I ask. He appears to be slightly bored by the question and walks over.

"Read it through and sign there," he says, kneeling in to point out the very obvious space for a signature, which I had noticed.

I turn in my chair to face him, holding the paper, and when I look up, his eyes shock me. I'm not sure why they do, I should be used to them now. I think back to the first time he sauntered into my office when I was in Transport. He kneeled before me, just like this, and he said, 'Ah, do you like me just that little bit more? Are we friends now? You've scored big time, Yagami-kun.' I had no idea then.

"There's no one else?" I ask.

"No one. Only you."

I can't help but smile a little. "I meant, is anyone else announcing their candidacy?"

"That's what I was meant," he tells me through a matching smile, but after a moment he's serious again, and he stands. "No, no one worth worrying about. You have the endorsement of The Lady, which still means something for some reason. You should call these MPs as soon as possible so you can be sure of their support in the vote. We have to whip the fuckers," he says, handing me a list of names. "They'll probably go along with the majority anyway, but sweeten the deal a little and don't budget too severely, because they'll appreciate the flattery. Make them feel important. Be their friend."

"Ok."

"I suppose this is the end of our little business arrangement. I must say, it's been nice working with you, most of the time."

"Why should it finish now?"

"Mission accomplished. Why should it continue?"

"I'll need you afterwards."

"Well, we'll see," he says.

"L, you're not thinking of leaving, are you?"

"Not yet. I have some statements to write and scandals about the opposition to make up."

"But you're not thinking of leaving the government?"

"Not right this moment, no. But, like I don't rely on you to be anything other than what you are, you shouldn't rely on me. I'm very changeable."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't stay in one place for long. My father's not well. If anything happens, I have to be prepared to take over the firm."

"But -"

"It's what I was trained for, Light, and I miss it. Keep your head down, time your announcements well, watch your MPs, and have stories leaked about the opposition when necessary. Don't  _ever_ be sympathetic. If you think that something could damage you and the party, throw it to the wolves. Kill them."

"Kill them?"

"Yes. Kill them all," he tells me, smiling viciously. My God, he's stunning sometimes. For the first time in my life, I want to be someone else. I want to be him. Look like him and speak like him and move like him and think like him and have all the things in his head. "You'll be ok, it's really not very difficult," he adds. "I'll only ever be a phone call away, anyway."

"I can't do my own PR and be Prime Minister."

"Yes you can. There are other people just like me who can help you, and they come cheap, unlike me. I take bank transfers, cash, credit card or cheque, by the way. Even American Express." I laugh to myself and look back down to the statement. He takes it from my hands and puts it on my desk.

"I have to pay you now? God, that's depressing."

"Sign it," he tells me, and I do. My pen hovers over the last stroke before he whips the piece of paper from the desk and folds it. "Well done. The boy did good," he mutters, and starts to walk away.

"L?"

"Hmmm?"

"Come back here."

"No fucking concern for my knees, Light. As always," he moans, crouching in front of me again. "This better be good. What?"

"I know that this might not be happening now if it wasn't for you. It probably wouldn't be happening."

"Maybe, but it all worked out nicely, didn't it? I could almost believe in fate, like you do."

"Why didn't you help me? Why didn't you tell the press about The Lady when you had the proof?" I ask, and he looks down to the floor.

"You know why. I had my reasons," he says.

"And now they've changed and you're back on my side, just like that."

"I was never not on your side, but I've accepted how things are now. I can always go back to how I used to be - it's a gift of mine. Nothing touches me really." I love him for that, but I can't do anything but carry on staring at him. I'm as shocked as he is when I lean forwards to cross my arms around his back, gripping the fabric of his suit in one hand. I press the side of my face against his and look at the wall behind him.

"You're such a liar," I tell him.

"Yes. And I was born purely for you, wasn't I. I forgot," he replies. No, that was a bit too much truth for you, wasn't it.

"I'm sorry that I said that."

"No, maybe it's true. To you, it's true. But if it is true, then it works both ways."

I whisper in his ear. It was just a whisper though. He probably didn't hear it.

"Y'know, I almost believed you then," he says after a moment. "All this practice on Kiyomi must be paying off. Don't worry, Light. We're ok. There's no need to resort to those kind of tactics with me." I feel him pat my back before he stands again.

"It's not a tactic."

He smiles and grips a fistful of my hair with a ferocity which doesn't suit with the softness of how he looks as me, but it's only for a second. "I'll call you when I've announced your candidacy. There'll be a meeting in the House later, of course."

And he leaves.

* * *

The restaurant is traditional and full of people. The overlarge, ironed out, white tablecloths seem out of place, like they're been stolen from somewhere else. Watari is the only one of us who's eating. L and I just push food around on our plates until someone takes them away and replaces them with another course.

"But let's not talk shop now, Yagami. How's your handicap?" Watari asks me, after discussing 'shop' for what seems like a very long time, needing little imput from L or myself. It sounded like he just needed to vent at someone.

"Oh, I have a long way to go, I think," I reply.

"We should meet on Tuesdays," Watari tells me. "Losing Takada has made golf a rather lonely business for me lately."

"I'd like that."

"I hear that you're engaged to Takada's daughter. Which one?"

"Kiyomi."

"Oh. Which one is she?"

"The youngest."

"OH! I remember her now. Her hair comes to about here?" he asks, indicating around his shoulders. I nod. "Very nice. Well done, Yagami. When's the wedding?" he says, like I've won a raffle.

"The first of June. We'd be honoured if you and your family could make it."

"Oh yes. Wouldn't miss it, Yagami. Lawliet, could you mark that in my diary for me?"

"Consider it marked," L replies.

"Dreadful business about the other sister. Thank God that Takada isn't here to see it. She lived abroad, didn't she?" he asks me.

"Yes, Hong Kong. Kiyomi and her mother have gone over there to help with the funeral and the children."

"She had children? Oh dear." I surprises me that Watari seems to know very little about his late, supposed best friend's family, but I suppose that it shouldn't. "Dreadful. I'm sure that you'll be glad to have her back."

"Yagami is making the most of his last few weeks of being a bachelor, Watari," L says, I look down instinctively when I feel what I quickly realise, after a moment of concern, that L has pressed his shoeless foot into my crotch, but I can't see it because of the tablecloth. I reach under the table to pull the sock off his foot it as he smiles like a Bond villain.

"Oh, good, good," Watari mumbles through the claggy mouthful of food he obviously thinks that we should see. "Wish I did more of that before I married. Didn't go in for those things in those days though. It just wasn't done."

"These modern men are terrible, Watari," L says, and drinks some saki, which is all he's done, really.

"I suppose that's progress, Lawliet," he replies despairingly. I open my mouth to deny being a raging nymphomaniac in my last few weeks of freedom, but L presses firmly suddenly and I gasp and then cough into my fist. "You and Yagami are tennis partners, aren't you?" Watari asks through my coughing fit.

"Mmmmmm... he's fairly proficient," L nods.

"Excellent. Do you smoke, Yagami?"

"No," I yelp while I try to push L's foot away under the table without making it look like I'm having a seizure.

"Drink?"

"Socially, but not to excess."

"Excellent.

"Yagami  _is_  excellent," L tells him. "I honestly could not think of anyone more worthy. But that's just my opinion, of course."

"Your opinion counts for a lot, Lawliet, you know that. And The Lady did seem to have a lot of faith in him."

"Oh yes, I've heard about this. What exactly did the note say?" L asks, leaning forwards with interest. There's a dull sound when what I hope is his knee strikes the table as he removes his foot from my personal space, leaving me with his fucking sock. I don't understand why he's asking about the note since he knows what it said, but then I realise that it's to remind Watari of the glowing recommendation.

"Can't remember the particulars, but she waxed lyrical," Watari says, and smiles as the waitress takes his plate away. God, I hope it's the last course. "She was obviously very concerned about the party, despite this... unfortunate business. Very difficult. I hope you realise that this would be no small undertaking, Yagami, were you to win the ballot. This incident with The Lady has damaged the party to such an extent that there will probably be a call for government to be dissolved and for a general election to be held."

"Actually, that looks increasingly unlikely," L chips in before I can say anything. Watari turns to him, his glasses steaming up from all these courses. Thin lines of sweat settle like stagnant rivers between the many wrinkles on his face.

"Really?" he asks.

"Some significant figures in the opposition appear to have been involved in the the scheme, too. Most significantly, our esteemed leader of the opposition, which would make any calls for a general election a bit redundant. As The Lady was the only person involved on our side, what would happen, at worst, is that we're voted in with a coalition with one of the smaller parties, and no one wants that."

"Lawliet, you are very clever," Watari tells him, settling back into his seat in awe. L smiles and dips his head.

"Yes, but it's actually Yagami who discovered that, so I can't take credit, unfortunately. He's been in contact with the individuals in question and they backed down, as you would expect when threatened with being outed. They didn't like the idea of the inevitable loss of office and mass resignations it would involve. I had a lovely conversation with their Head of PR yesterday, you know how I idolise that maladroit idiot. We hate each other so vehemently that I wouldn't be surprised if he left his wife for me one day. He backed down and tore up their plans, and it's the right decision. They wouldn't recover public faith for the next decade, never mind the next election."

"It sounds as if you've saved the party," Watari says, turning to stare at me with the same awe.

"I only did what anyone else would do," I say dismissively.

"Yagami is self-depreciating to a fault, Watari. It's perhaps his one flaw. Sometimes it's hard to believe that he's human and uses the toilet just like the rest of us."

"A bit of humility is a very good quality in a leader. As a lawyer, you wouldn't appreciate that," he says jokingly.

"Ha. No, I wouldn't. In that case, Yagami has no flaws."

"Well, to have earned the support of someone so hard to please as Lawliet, you really must be worthy, son. I have to admit, I underestimated you, despite your success in your offices. Your work in the Foreign Office had been noticed, but you're so young that that was my only concern."

"He's an old soul," L tells him, swishing his saki around in the glass. "Can't you see him leading the party? I think that he's exactly what the government needs - a fresh face, and a very nice one too. He's very popular, but competent, which is unusual."

"You're very lucky," Watari says, nudging me in the ribs. "He's putting forward quite a persuasive case for you."

I can't help but sense that all this is going over my head and that I'm just decorative. My input has not really been called for, and even when it was, L shot it down.

"I'm not sure what I've done to deserve it, he's a very good friend," I mumble.

"Oh, there's that humility again," L laughs, and Watari looks like he's going to keel over with all this good humour.

"He may have designs on you. You should warn your fiancée. Ha!" he nudges me again. I feel uncomfortable on L's behalf, but he smiles warmly at Watari.

"Never. You know me, Watari, I don't understand you politicians. I'll stick to uncomplicated people. Not that Yagami would have me, anyway. He has too much sense. I'd ruin him, I think."

Watari laughs so much that I think that he farts quite loudly. I'm pretty sure that it wasn't his chair.

"Oh. Oh. I better go," he says suddenly, confirming it. "I didn't realise the time. Well, thank you, Yagami. Very nice meal. Golf tomorrow then?"

"Absolutely. I'll call you." Yes. I'll put it on my fucking tab. L and I wave him off and I ask for the bill so we can leave as soon as possible. The low ceiling is indistinct with steam as I pay and L appears behind me with our coats. I'm desperate to shout at him and ask him what the fuck just happened, but it'll have to wait until we're outside. I think he knows, but doesn't look in the least concerned about it, taking a complimentary mint from the bar as we go.

Once outside I set a quick pace through the narrow streets back to where we've parked.

"That went well," he says happily, sucking on the mint. Thank God he spoke because that's my cue.

"You didn't let me fucking speak! What is with your foot?" I bellow at him. But he can hardly tell me, he's trying so hard not to laugh.

"I really don't know, it has a life of its own. Can I have my sock back?" he asks, so I find his shitting sock in my pocket, ball it up and throw it at him, which he finds very funny. "And you said quite enough. It's best if you say little with Watari."

"But -"

"Watari is the kind of man who needs to be told what to think by someone he respects. He doesn't respect you, or at least he didn't before I told him that he should. You acted perfectly, Light. I am very pleased. You might think that this all depended upon your performance and making speeches; declarations about your honesty and proficiency and how good your golf swing is, but it was more about someone else telling him that. If you beat him at golf tomorrow then he'll love you forever. So make sure that you do."

I haven't thought about fucking golf for ages. It's basically walking and hitting things occasionally with an overpriced stick, isn't it? I feel a bit shellshocked by the whole thing - literally having my career put in L's hands over dinner with an old man who farts when he laughs. "I haven't played for months. I'm probably shit at golf now," I admit.

"So is Watari, you'll be fine," L assures me, but... no. I notice a narrow backstreet off to my right, and I slide off towards it suddenly. L notices the movement behind, stops and turns to stare at me a few feet down the dark alleyway. "Uh, hello?"

"I just need stop for a minute."

"Are you lying in wait for a hapless cockney prostitute to butcher? Can I be your hapless cockney prostitute?" He laughs and nearly buckles over.

"Yeah, come here," I say, and hold my hand out towards him. It's caught in a shaft of street light and must look horrific from where he is. Just a floating arm cut off at the elbow.

"Thank you kindly, sir. Tuppence and a sultana and I'm yours. What a nice knife you have there, can I 'av a look? Hello there," he grins, slipping in in front of me, and I lean forward, pressing my forehead into his chest. I can feel the breaths and words rumble within him. "What's wrong? I thought that you'd be skipping."

"I don't understand all this sometimes," I tell him quietly.

"What don't you understand?" he asks. When I don't answer, he puts his hand on the back of my neck. "You will. You're your own political whip, and you'll be very good at it because all this is second nature to you, anyway." I pivot my head to look to the left and how dark and quiet the street is. Just one street leading off to another, getting progressively smaller or larger, like a maze, and and it never ends. I realise that there is no central point to aim for, and no easy way to find your way back. The pavement shines with a thin sheet of rain as L speaks into my hair. "Is it all too overwhelming for you, Light? Has it hit you that you're going to win the ballot and you'd have to resign from politics now to stop it from happening? You're going to marry Kiyomi, you're going to be Prime Minister and you're going to have your two point four children. Has the war been worth it?"

"You know, you never told me," I say, still staring at the light bouncing off the street.

"Told you what?"

"That you loved me."

"Didn't I?"

"Not exactly, no. You just inferred that you might and then expected me to sing you a love song. It made me think about your hypocrisy. Like when you didn't want me to see anyone else but you could fuck whoever you wanted."

"Says a man who's going to marry someone in a few weeks and is fucking me in his spare time," he mumbles, and I fall back against the cool wall. I can barely see him since it's so dark and claustrophobic here.

"Why haven't you told me? If it's so important to you, why can't you say it?"

"Have you ever considered the idea that maybe I don't love you?" he asks, pushing my hair back from my face. I can tell that the wax in my hair has made it stand uncomfortably at strange angles from my scalp, and he laughs softly as he touches it and realises what he's done. "Light, I think I killed your hair again."

"It's because you wanted me to say it first," I say, ignoring his attempted diversion. I see just the faintest outline of his features as my eyes adjust to the darkness. He looks quite serious as he concentrates on raking my hair back into place.

"Or it might be that. It could be that I still have some grasp on reality and see that such things would be wasteful on you and hurtful to me. It might be self-preservation."

"You're frightened of me," I whisper, and he looks at me and not my fucking hair.

"At times. You'll always be the storm on my horizon. They can be scary bastards sometimes. You don't know what to expect from them."

"Coward."

"Am I?"

"I don't know, are you?"

"Maybe. Better a coward than stupid. You don't volunteer something like that to someone who would happily drown you and piss off singing a happy tune. Don't get me wrong, I know that you think that I'm the best thing since someone invented the cappuccino, though God knows why. You might not know it, but one day you will. And it'll probably be when I'm not with you anymore. Such is life."

"Oh, you think so?"

"I know so," he says, and it's just a low moan not far away. I watch my thumb stroke his temple. It's such a thin, vulnerable place. Then I lean in and let my nose glide along his.

"Mmm... Listen, I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

"But you'll just be saying the words again because you think that I want you to. You don't know what they mean. I'll do what you want without it, so don't bother," he tells me matter-of-factly.

Falling back against the wall again, I smile towards my left. Not one person has walked down that street. Maybe everyone's died? I pull out a cigarette and the lighter gives me a warm shock when it lights up L's face briefly, framed by his white collar and black hair.

"I thought about you a lot while you were busy buying rings for Kiyomi Takada," he continues, propping himself up against the wall, encircling my free wrist tightly in his hand. "I've just thought about you a lot. I spoke to B about you, actually. A nameless, faceless, jobless you. Don't worry, he thinks that 'Light' is some romantic made-up name I gave you. And I've never asked for a psychological analysis for someone I've fucked before, so that was a first." He takes my cigarettes and takes a shallow draw on it, speaking through the smoke as he passes it back to me. "He's a psychologist, not sure if I ever mentioned that. It's quite useful sometimes. B thinks that you're a psychopath, but then, he is biased. He thinks that everyone's a psychopath, and he can't understand what your problem is, because clearly I'm wonderful."

"Ha!"

"Yes. I said that you can't be a psychopath because you're so good-looking and psychopaths generally aren't."

"Nice logic."

"Shallow, convenient logic."

"So B told you that you should stay away from me, I'm guessing?"

"Plenty more fish in the sea and all that," he says. "I'm not all that old, and I'm pretty well-preserved, I think."

"You're not bad. Quite nice, actually. Very nice. Very, very nice in the right suit. Very, very, very nice when you're -"

"Yes, thank you, I'll stop you there."

"But knowing you, you would have given him a very negative, one-sided summary of me. I bet you didn't tell him that there's no one else like me for you and vice versa."

"I might have littered my description of you with expletives, yes. So, I did all that, but ultimately I realised that it's pointless trying with you, and why should I deny myself anything, anyway? I realised it just when you burst in talking about church, all full of yourself and evil intent. Good timing."

"L..."

"I know. I realised that I could force you to say it. I could. Through violence or sexual deviancy maybe. You'd say it now just because you're grateful to me, but it wouldn't mean anything, so what's the point of  _me_  saying it? It would make no difference to you. That's what I decided."

"Good. We'll skip it then."

"Your reasons might be similar to mine in any case," he says, and I steady myself on one hand near his head, the cigarette between my fingers just burning slowly to ash as I kiss him, opening and closing mouths because he's just so pliable that he does whatever I tell him to do.

"Oh, sorry," a man's voice says from the street. I just to see his foot disappear out of sight and I laugh when I turn back to L.

"Fag ash Lil," he smiles into my mouth, "Let's go."

* * *

"Light! Thank God! Hold on a second, I have to find somewhere quiet." I hear the rustle of her dress and the slide of nylon as she must have me pressed against her leg as she walks. A couple of seconds later, I hear a door slam. "Ok, I'm back."

I pace around my kitchen. My apartment is pretty bare now as I've had a lot of the more unnecessary things put into storage. Apparently I'm clearing it and putting stickers on what remains for the removal men so they know what should be sold, and things that should be moved. I'll leave L with a bed if he wants to keep this place.

"How are things?" I ask.

"Don't ask. I don't want to talk about it. How are you though?"

"Fine."

"You're eating ok and everything?"

"Kiyomi, I've looked after myself for a long time, I think I can manage to keep myself alive for a few more weeks."

"Ok, testy. Oh, for fuck's sake. Hold on again," she orders me, before shouting abuse at someone. "Sorry about that," she says into the phone. I forgot about her staccato way of speaking.

"Who was that?"

"One of the brats decided that he needed to use the bathroom. You know, if he wasn't so stupid, I'd think that he waited on purpose for when I went in. Anyway, tell me about The Lady. I just heard this morning because it's a cultural vacuum here. Ken wants absolute silence at all times so he can sit around looking sad. Your phone was switched off, by the way. It's such amazing news! Obviously sad, but amazing. What happened? The news on cable say that she overdosed. You know that they don't have a computer here? Did she overdose?"

"Yeah."

"Are you alright? You sound strange."

"I'm fine. It's just a shock, you know," I say, throwing a teabag into a cup. "Everything's a bit uncertain now, that's all."

"So Watari is standing in the interim before they elect a new leader, right?"

"Yes. The vote will be in a few days."

"Have you announced your candidacy yet?"

"Yes."

"Then you'll be PM?"

"Maybe... Kiyomi? Are you still there?"

"Yes, sorry. I just can't believe that it was so easy. Is there any opposition?"

"No one I can't deal with."

"I know you will. I'll get a flight back this afternoon."

"No, why?" I ask, horrified by the idea. She can't change plans like that.

"This is important. I should be with you," she explains. Well, yes. But she's not necessary for it. Election campaigns, yes, but not this ballot. It's just a vote in the House.

"No, you stay there. It looks better," I tell her.

"It looks better if I don't appear to care about my fiancé's campaign?"

"You're in mourning, Kiyomi. Your sister has just died."

"I'm so bored here, Light," she sighs. "Let me come home. I should be seen to support you."

"You are from where you are. The press in this morning's papers is very good, although we're towards the middle pages because of The Lady and everything. No, you're needed there and I need to concentrate."

"You think that I'll distract you? Thanks!"

"I didn't mean it that way, I just meant that... Well, yeah, you're distracting."

"I miss you," she says. I dip the teabag in and out of the water.

"You too," I reply.

"Don't sound like you mean it, Light. You might burst a blood vessel."

"Sorry, it's just that there's someone here."

"And you don't want to sound like a soppy bastard on the phone to your fiancée. That just wouldn't do! Men."

"That's pretty much it, yeah."

"Who's there?"

"L," I answer. He's not here; he's still at work. But I want her to adjust to the idea of him being in the picture. It'll make it easier in the long run.

"You're friends with him again?" she asks.

"We decided to put our differences aside so he could help me with my campaign. He wanted me to pass on his apologies to you for his bad manners when you met him. He had low blood sugar."

"Oh! In that case, good. Have you invited him to the wedding? Ignore what I said and invite him to the wedding."

"Ha, I don't think L's one for weddings. Not my wedding anyway."

"Ask him anyway. Well, you get back to whatever you're doing. Call me later? I'm going to go mad here, Light. These children are disgusting and they're always crying. One of them ate my Tom Ford lipstick."

"God, is it ok?"

"The lipstick? No, he ate it. Limited fucking edition. I'm sorry for swearing but I'm very annoyed about it."

"I meant the kid."

"Oh! Yeah, unfortunately he's fine."

"You're a heartless bitch, Kiyomi."

"I know. Hey, just think, in six weeks, you'll be married to this heartless bitch. Think of that."

"Are you trying to put me off?" I ask, and she laughs.

"No. I'll love our children, I just don't like other people's."

"Hmmm..."

"Are you sure that you're ok? Are you sleeping alright?"

"Yes and yes. What about... what's his name. Your sister's husband."

"Ken."

"Yeah."

"He's so boring," she tells me, and I snort down the phone. "He is! All he does is cry."

"His wife has just died."

"And don't I know it. Anyway, I better go or this kid will probably piss himself just to spite me. Will you call me later?"

"Yeah, around ten your time?"

"Anytime. Light... I'm proud of you."

"Thanks. Buy some clothes while you're away. Nothing too over the top and happy, but not prim. Think sexy conservative, but let the sex come from your shoes. Suits. No trouser suits though. Pencil skirts just above or below the knee and no cheap shit. Try and go for Japanese designers but nothing too avant garde. Classic and no red. Fuck the red. Anything but red."

"I'm on it. Speak you later then," she says, sounding like she's already put the phone down. "Good luck and don't smoke."

"Bye, Kiyomi."


	9. My Memory Lingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Achtung! Contains errors, sentimental stuff, The Carpenters, an excerpt from L's long, long backstory, champagne fountains and possibly nuts.

It's appropriate that it's raining.

Today is Naomi's wedding day. It's Jeevas' too, obviously, but I'm not here for either of them. I was invited and I have to be seen to be here and be happy for them, and that's my role for today. It's a shame that Kiyomi's not here. At least then I'd have someone to agree with me and verbalise half of what I think of this whole thing. I got here early to miss the press and to adjust to the slow flood of people, and I stand by the window in one of the only empty rooms to watch the cars arrive. All the women have ridiculous birdlike flower things perched on their heads, and that's appropriate too.

"Hi, Prime Minister."

I turn towards the voice to find Naomi in her wedding dress, posed in the doorway with marble steps behind her leading to who knows where. I think that she's wearing a Vera Wang, but I don't know about these things. I've only involuntarily picked up bits and pieces of information through what Kiyomi's shown me in her magazines, and I don't really have an opinion. She looks nice enough. I hope that Jeevas appreciates it, but I don't think that he's capable of it. He'll just take it for granted like he takes everything for granted. Women are supposed to look like they're wrapped up presents on their wedding day. Stick them on a cake so they blend in with the icing.

"Well, you look beautiful," I say, and she laughs shyly. She never used to be so easily flattered. It's a shame.

"What, this old thing? Please tell me that's alcoholic," she says, instantly serious when she notices the drink in my hand. She walks towards me like she's drawn to it. I sense that she's preparing to go to war so I hand her my vodka, which she takes a gulp of. "Thanks for coming. I wasn't sure if you would after the ballot, I thought that you'd be too busy. Congratulations, by the way. I haven't had a chance to speak to you lately, without other people around, I mean. Just wanted to say how happy I am for you." She rubs my arm, being sympathetic through two layers of clothing.

"Thanks. How are you?"

"Oh, ok. The gallery's doing well. How's Kiyomi?"

"Sad that she couldn't be here. She sends her best wishes."

"She sent me some flowers this morning but I haven't had a chance to call her since she left. Arranging this thing has been a fucking nightmare, Light. How's yours going?"

"Alright, but Kiyomi's doing most of it. I just cry inside when I get the estimates."

"Heh. Well, Matt's dad is paying for this. He insisted. A string quartet and a harpsichord flown in from somewhere in Central Europe that I can't pronounce. I just wanted a pianist to play a Philip Glass piece beforehand." I sigh as she sighs, but for different reasons, and she looks ashamed. "I know what you're thinking, Light. It's not like that," she tells me. She needs to hear how wrong she is.

"You never liked Philip Glass, Raye did. So there's that. Raye was joking when he suggested it."

"Was he?" she asks. Her lips curl upwards at the edges just from the mention of him and the prospect of learning something about him from me. I don't know if he was joking when he said that he wanted Philip Glass music during their wedding. You could never tell with him.

"He also said that a funeral march should be played when you walked down the aisle, so yeah, he was joking. It's not wedding music, it's mad and depressing. Better for a 'bon voyage and enjoy your stay at the mental institution' party."

"Not all of it's like that. I like it now, it's... I know, you're right, it's probably for the best. Still, at least you have some control over things when you pay for it yourself. That's what I'm trying to say."

"I suppose. Well, I'll let you get ready. Half an hour to go. Dum dum duuuum."

"Stop it," she says, laughing weakly for a second as she hits my arm. "Oh God. I'm ok about it, it's just the thought of walking in there with all those people staring at me. Is Matt here?"

"Of course he is."

"Oh!" she gasps, raising her eyebrows. "That's surprising. Is he drunk?"

"No."

"Does he look like he's about to die?"

"No, Naomi," I smile and hope that I look comforting. Her eyes look to the floor like she's going to tell me a secret she really shouldn't.

"He's still upset about The Lady. He drove his car into a bus shelter the other night."

"I heard. L bailed him."

"Yeah. Could you tell him thanks from us. Matt's embarrassed and... well, I just couldn't face it. I have no idea how these things work. I just heard that he was ok, but drunk, and that he was in a cell. I don't know, I'm useless, so I phoned Teru and he must have called Lawliet to sort it out. I don't think that I thanked him when he brought Matt back. It wasn't in the papers or anything!"

"He's used to bailing people, I think. That and story blackouts are unofficial parts of his job. But I'll tell him."

"Thanks," she says. Her expression is disturbingly affectionate, like she's a mother sending her child off to school for the first time.

"What?"

"Nothing, I'm just pleased to see you. It's nice to know that at least one person here is on my side."

"Everyone is here for you."

"No, I don't mean that, but I know how things are. You were always nice to me when no one else was. You were the only person who thought to tell me about Raye when it happened. The only one. The House didn't. My friends disappeared and my family got fed up of me after a week. Just to let you know that I haven't forgotten that you were there for me. I don't think that I thanked you either. I never do what I should at the right time."

"Naomi..."

"No, you didn't have to and you weren't told to, so don't say that. He was your friend and I remember what you were like at the funeral. I've never seen anyone look so sad. Not that I was pleased that you were sad, but it was nice to know that someone else was, apart from me. No one talks about him to me. They don't even say his name, like he never existed. Fuck, my make up." She dabs her fingertips at her eyes and looks disappointed that I haven't replied and have no intention to. I don't want to talk about it and she always wants to talk about it when there's nothing she can do now. I feel a pang of sorrow for her helplessness and I don't know why, but it's easy to push aside. My continued silence eventually makes her put on a happy display to ease the awkwardness. "So, yeah, I'm really happy for you. Kiyomi's lucky. I kind of wish that I'd introduced you earlier," she says, but her happy face doesn't stay long. "I messed up with you, didn't I?"

"No. You had a lucky escape," I smile back at her.

"You were always so kind to me. Why were you kind to me?" she whispers, as though if she speaks any louder she might start crying. Now she's in my arms like a dying swan and I put her there, I think, so no more vodka for me. L would laugh at me if he was here. He'd find this hilarious. I want to step out of myself for a moment and laugh at what I see.

"I have to go, Naomi," I say into her scraped back hair. "Be happy, ok? It's your day."

"I wish he was here, Light."

"I know."

"But he wouldn't have wanted me to be alone, would he? Matt  _can_  be nice, you know. I'm sorry that you don't get on." No, he's a cretin. You're marrying a cretin. Buy yourself a gun on the black market and good luck.

"I hope that you're happy. I really do."

"Thanks, Light. You too."

I rub my hand over her bare, cold shoulders before I take the vodka from her hand and leave her there. The move from this quiet room into one which holds a roar of voices hits me like napalm. I'm immediately pounced on by people who fumble and trip over words which they think are suitable for someone like me, and I split in two. Autopilot employed and my mind locks itself in a glass case again. While they talk, in my mind I can still see her standing there, vodkaless, knowing that she has to come in here herself in a little while and that it'll be worse for her. She has no one to blame but herself, but I always thought that after Penber, she became a ship which had lost its captain. Just a ghost of a thing really.

There's a sadness I can't shake since The Lady died, and I find life more difficult than it was before in some ways. I don't know why. I suppose it must be because now I've achieved this much, it's an anti-climax. It's a normal reaction and it shouldn't be over-thought, but I do, and I keep thinking about the moment which pushed me onto this path. I was always going to be something, but that moment gave me a goal that might have meaning, and it's been everything I am since then. The Lady visited my university, and everyone was saying how they hated her; how she was ruining the education system, there were no jobs, and that they were going to throw shit at her. I believed that they would, but I didn't have an opinion either way myself. Then she turned up and shook some hands and smiled, and everyone changed, just like that. I thought how easy it was to change people's opinions by doing nothing at all apart from smiling and saying some well-chosen words. It's just bullshitting, that's all she did, and I thought that I could do that. I could do that better than anyone else, ever. I'd been bullshitting all my life and I realised then what you can do with it.

My stance hasn't changed. Politics was and is a ineffectual system. Why waste your breath arguing against an elitist gang of thugs unless you're one of the thugs? Suddenly, I had something to aim for, and it was a smooth road. I don't think that my father took it seriously until I was made deputy of transport and I showed him proposals I'd drawn up for Mikami, and a few weeks later he was reading about them in the papers. Then my face was in the paper, and who couldn't be proud of that? Anyone could win the seat I won, so that wasn't terribly impressive in itself. It's a very safe seat for our party.

It surprised some people. Others weren't surprised. I was brought up in an atmosphere of obedience. My father never questioned politics, only accepted the tightening noose of red tape they imposed upon his work and what directly affected him. He had an even a lower regard for lawyers, so I was studying law to use it within the police force. That was my drifting plan. He doesn't like L. Why am I friends with him? I can't tell you, you wouldn't understand. Who are you to question me?

But I feel now, over the last few weeks, that I've wasted so much time. I doubt what I'm doing and it's increasingly hard to push those thoughts aside. I fall into thoughts like a sea, and it's so self-indulgent that it makes me sick. L's role to me was to be a pawn, and I don't see him as a pawn anymore. I allowed that to happen. I'm getting married and I don't want to get married, and I sought that myself. I saw her, I bought her. I placed myself in a world of promiscuity, casual drug use and unreported, rampant crime, and sometimes my detachment fails me. I'm embittered in the face of the world's end. The ugliness which once motivated and interested me, doesn't anymore. I hate everyone I see, because I don't know how they can stand this. There's weakness everywhere I turn, and now it's infected me.

I can't think while these faces are gaping at me. After removing myself from the social zoo which leaves me open to being spoken to, I stand against the wall at such a distance that no one will approach me now if they value their lives. Then L walks towards me, cursive and fluid in a roomful of numbers. We look at each other like we're strangers as he walks past me and through a door. I follow him, and I keep following him, because I know that l'll always be a shadow in his footsteps now, always. He said that he wouldn't come to the wedding, but he did, and he came for me. I lose sight of him in the harsh angles of this background maze for staff. As I turn a corner, I can't see him when he should be there. He couldn't walk that fast. I see things that might not really be there sometimes. It's hard to tell if there's no one there to confirm it for you, and I think for a moment that maybe I imagined him. Stupidly, not just in this moment, but that I imagined him entirely, like I'm a man who fell in love with a portrait of someone who's dead. But the panic just simmers, as it often does in dreams, because you never truly believe that it's real. I just walk faster. I need to find him and prove that I haven't made him up and that I'm not chasing something that doesn't exist. It might be better for me if he didn't.

There's a vice-like grip on my arm as I'm pulled suddenly into a narrow room, and I smile in the blackness when the door shuts. Someone is holding me in place while I'm kissing them, whoever they are. I didn't get a chance to see them, so it's just the love of a stranger in a dark place for a moment, and I like that, I always did. The fewer words exchanged, the better. With no words and no lights I can make them whatever I want them to be, except now he's the face behind them all. Something clatters to the floor when I push him against the wall, and I kiss him with an intensity of wanting to be part of him, like he's the one solid thing in the world to hold onto. His mouth tastes of tannin. Maybe it's an assassin who kisses like L and drinks wine? It could be anyone. No, it's his hair. I know him in the dark, it's ok. I don't care if I dreamed him.

"I wondered where you were," I whisper against his lips when he breaks away from me. I suppose that we should whisper. The low rumble of people vibrates through the thin walls.

"I haven't seen you for hours," he replies with a tone of neglect which makes me laugh and take a step backwards. My hand runs along the walls until I find a cord for a single lightbulb over our heads. The sudden whiteness blanks out everything for a moment.

"Four whole hours, L. How did we manage? Oh God, you've fucked up my suit."

He  _has_  creased my suit, the bastard. I have to have my photos taken in an hour or so in a creased suit. Part of me is outraged that he can't he just say hello instead of pulling me into rooms and molesting me, but I'm glad that he did. He leans back against the wall and drinks from a glass of champagne which he must have been holding the entire time. The aim might be to come across as louche, but it's more wino than decadent. He rolls his eyes at me as he drinks.

"Hours. Plural," he says, staring at what's left in the glass. "What's your point? And your suit needed to be fucked up. You look better when you're not so perfect."

"I see that you've made no effort in the suit department. A navy pinstripe? Really? The invitation said plain grey."

"I just came from the office. I really didn't give it much thought."

"Clearly. I thought you said that you were too busy for this wedding shit anyway."

"And miss out on this hilarity? I wanted to time it so I'd miss the support acts. No, I've been talking to B. He's having an operation." Ha. I think that must be karma.

"Oh. Are you worried? Is it serious?"

"No. It's the lancing of a cyst but he makes it sound like the equivalent of Mary I of England's reign along with the Kurtz/bull slaughter scene from  _Apocalypse Now_. No, I'm not worried," he says, and squints his eyes at me like he's seen something he doesn't like. "Are you alright? You look pale."

"I'm fine. It must be the lighting," I tell him, and he smiles while he lazily pulls at my lapel to straighten out the crease. It won't work. This thing holds creases like it's a piece of paper.

"Ok. So, hello. Sorry about that. I just saw you standing there like you didn't belong and I couldn't resist. We'd better go back in or we'll miss the show."

"I don't know if I can watch Naomi commit suicide in public like this."

"Go on, it'll be fun," he assures me, nudging me with his elbow, and I regret saying anything at all. He loses his smile when I mumble my reply.

"It won't."

"I don't understand you. You're one thing, and just when I think I've got you figured out, you're something else."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. It's not fun to watch someone marry a person like Jeevas."

"Fuck, Light, why don't you marry her? Save her from all this. You're Dustin Hoffman in  _The Graduate_. Go for it. Pass a law in favour of bigamy and marry everyone."

"Don't be stupid. And give me that," I say, taking the glass off him and putting it on the shelf. "You can't drink during the ceremony."

"This comedy routine is a ceremony?"

"I'd feel sorry for anyone who marries Jeevas, but Naomi  _is_  making a joke out of herself. I hate people who settle and take the easy option."

"If Jeevas is the easy option then I'd hate to see what the difficult options were." His barely there amusement at the situation puts things into perspective for me, and I lean my head back against the door to exhale it all away as I stare at the blank walls around me. There's no reason to care about Naomi and how she fucks up her life entirely. That's her problem and I have to keep my head clear for other things. When I look back at him, he's just watching me. The darkest irises I've ever seen, as if his pupils are permanently dilated, looking at me. I think I must have looked at a tiger in a cage like that once. It was just pacing inside a box. "Why are you so far away?" he asks softly. My face is itching to smile.

"Five minutes," I sigh, and take off my jacket to prevent further damage. There's a brief scuffle which makes me laugh as some more things are knocked over. For a moment, we're just millimetres away from each other's faces before I let him kiss me, and that one moment makes me happier than everything else, because in that moment I feel like he understands me, almost. The initial, almost frightened softness becomes insistent and ridiculous. He really does taste of the inside of a wine barrel. Cabernet Sauvignon. Ten years old, probably. Like jam in a pencil box. It's not wholly unpleasant, but I wouldn't put up with it if he was anyone else. My heart beats right into his chest and his into mine as if they're urging each other to throb at the same time. I don't think there's room for air between us. Again, the now familiar loss of something which is holding me together. There's a helplessness in this warm, even ground field in which I have no control, and I hate it, this drowning feeling. I couldn't remember any of the names and faces in my head if I tried, they're all drowning, he's drowning everything out. Naomi and Penber and Jeevas and Mikami and Touta and Sayu and my parents and everyone else who breathes aren't alive anymore and they never were. We're just some idiots alone behind the bike shed of the world.

I hardly notice that he's gone, because in my mind he's still there. My eyes are closed for a little longer than they should be, and when I open them he's just looking at me like a smug bastard. Yes, I know that you're very good at that. You do it on purpose. I take a fist worth of his hair roughly in my hand. My voice is quiet and smooth with his saliva in my mouth.

"You're a disgusting thing. I feel empty when you're not with me."

"Oh. Be still, my beating heart! You make yourself sound like a car that's run out of petrol. Fucking hell," he laughs as he kneels down.

"What are you doing?"

"Reset the clock. You need cheering up back to your normal horrible self. All this shitty niceness is pissing me off." he says, all nimble fingers on a button and zip. There's a dull music coming through the walls now. And she thought that I'd be there for her, the stupid bitch. No, I'm not nice.

"I'm not being nice."

"Yes you are. Turn off the light, Light. God, that never gets old, does it?"

"You're one of the only people who calls me Light like that."

"Instead of 'Raito', you mean?" he asks, looking up at me briefly. "Yeah. You crazy Japanese and your lack of L's. Ha. I did it again."

"But you're half-Japanese."

"Something like that. Turn off the light then."

"No, I want to see you."

"This isn't daytime TV, you know," he says.

I look down at my hand on his head as he presses the tip of his tongue to an exposed slice of my stomach and his hand reaches up underneath my shirt. Soon he'll be rooting around like he's looking for his keys in the bottom of a bag, or else he'll get rid of obstacles altogether. Then he'll be licking veins and groping and pulling and treating me like one of his fucking ice creams, and I'll fuck his face, come in his mouth, and it'll be over. I anticipate feeling better for it in some respects. He might spit in the champagne glass, but that would be unusual. I might insist that he does because I have a terrible idea which involves mixing it in with the champagne fountain.

The back of my head hits the door.

* * *

I've told the landlord that someone's taking over my lease and that he's helping me move out as he moves in, but L hasn't made any effort to buy anything yet. Maybe he wants me to? Maybe he expects this place to be fully furnished? When I've brought the apartment up in conversation, he's very evasive, bordering on being dismissive. He even suggested that I sell it when Kiyomi comes back in a week's time, though I'm not sure where we'd meet then because his house is too far away for it to be viable really. I avoid arguments and disagreements in favour of a strange uncertainty which makes me uncomfortable and annoyed. I'm dodging arguments like lepers in a leper colony because it's always there under it all and quite close to the surface. At least, to me it is.

And yes, I won the ballot. Being Prime Minister is almost disappointing in its mundanity. I don't seem to work much more than I did, but I talk a lot more than I did, and I go on a lot more visits than I did. Things are planned ahead for me; foreign visits and tours of places which are apparently doing a good job in doing whatever they do. My calendar is pretty full. The press are already hounding me constantly because they want to know me. I'm unusual; a young Prime Minister and a man with a face for the cameras. My face and words sell papers. I'm one of the top search terms on Japan's most popular search engine. They're hounding Kiyomi too in Hong Kong, which she loves, and she hasn't put a foot wrong. I'm very pleased with her clothes. L's helpfully managed to get a lot of the press off my case lately and has threatened some of the paparazzi and freelancers with legal action, which brings some peace back into my life. It literally happened overnight, and I thought that it was intrusive before. They'll either lose interest, because it's early days yet, or it'll get worse.

On the day of the ballot, I lost my Head of Defence. Died horribly. Terrible suicide involving an orange and a wardrobe. I've heard rumours that he liked children a little too much, so it's no real loss. It's strange how these things come out after someone dies but at least that could be covered up now that he's gone. L bought off the police and showed me crime scene photos of Defence's bloated body, suspended by a tie. Even if the full story did come out, it would bear no reflection on me. I won't have people like that in my government. I'm just thankful that he died after he voted for me, because every little counts. I have a reshuffle in mind but I'm keeping Watari as my deputy, mostly because it looks like I'm not ageist. He's useless, but it looks good.

I finished work at five and went for a drink with Touta and a few other people at the reinstated club. It's all very quiet and sensible in a place which looks like God's waiting room. The streets are quiet and deserted outside as it's pissing down and there's been some kind of apocalypse called Friday night. Everyone is on their best behaviour when I'm around, and they drink responsibly. I text L to let him know that I'm here, but there's no reply when a sarcastic one-liner is standard. As time goes on, I call him and find that his phone is switched off, so obviously he's ignoring me for some reason. I call his office, but there's no answer there either. I call Mihael, and it goes to voicemail too. This is fucking irritating.

After a couple of hours, the crowd is dribbling out the doors until eventually there's only my bodyguard and me left at the table. I find his staring presence annoying, so he's given his marching orders. He's the best - that's what I was given to believe – and he takes his work very seriously. He'd take a bullet for me. We just met two weeks ago, but he'd take a bullet for me. He thinks that I'm in mortal danger when I'm out of his sight. His job, he reminds me, is to ensure my delivery to security at the Kantei like I'm an overdue shipment. He rarely gets the opportunity. His usual reluctance to leave makes me wonder if I need to enter an authorisation code into his control panel. Apparently I have to sign another form to say that I've discharged him against his advice. He's suspicious of everyone, which I admire in some small way, and his intense distrust of L is amusing.

Various politicians of various statuses take turns to float around my table for minutes at a time until they merge into one for me. While they speak, a thought flashes through my mind that L could be dead, because that's the most reasonable explanation that I can think of for why he's disappeared off the face of the earth. I don't really believe it, but it's still there, and I find it an interesting thought. If it's true then I want to see it with my own eyes, not hear about it from some idiot's memo like it's just another employee problem.

I call the reception at L's building and they tell me he hasn't signed out yet, which brings me some relief, because in my head I saw him bleeding in the driver's seat of his car. I could see it so clearly and calmly, like a film replaying, and every time I add details. He's driving, almost in slow motion, 'Julia' playing as a soundtrack. Then a sudden impact from the side makes his car rolls over a few times, rocking into place when it hits some parked cars. It leaves scars on the road. The horn is stuck and the brassy, piercing sound cuts through 'Julia', and then I pan in because I'm a camera now. There's something graceful about how broken and crushed his chest is, and my lens takes all the colour and light and shadows. No airbag. Shame. Because he's so lithe, the bones just seemed to shatter inwards, and he's stained crimson while his face is untouched and pale. His eyes are closed like he's sleeping, but he might wake up and smile at me like he loves me and he'd say, 'Isn't this funny?' I might smile back and say: 'Yes. Yes, and you're beautiful. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever known and I hate you.' But I don't think about it too much. I really should find something else to fill my head with, like my proposal to speed up the country's execution process. It will, ironically, take a painfully long time to push through because it brings in law experts for the drafting of the bill, and the law is always slow to move. I can't find anyone suitable to draft the bill, so it hangs there. I should get L onto it but I don't think he sees that it's important, as I do. Last night, he said that sometimes I look at him like he's a task that I've been burdened with.

Then he appears and my little fantasy vanishes. He stops to speak to some old man who I don't recognise but instantly despise because of his leather elbow patches on his suit, so I look back at Finance, who looks stressed behind his glasses. Please don't speak to me. I haven't got time for you. It's bad enough having to look at you. There's a quiz in the other room and someone shouts: 'Give it up for Akira!" What am I supposed to give up? My life?

With nothing else to look at that I wish to see or haven't seen before, I notice that L's wearing the same clothes that he wore in my dream. I put him in those clothes in my dream even though I didn't see him this morning. How strange.

Mihael leaves L's side and stands at my table like a sommelier in a gay bar. He looks tired and worn down, jangling his car keys anxiously in his hand. Finance leaves because I'm not paying attention to him anymore. I can't say that I miss him.

"I'm leaving L with you," Mihael tells me moodily, as if it's all my fault.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I have  _no_  idea. He came in this morning looking like he had flu, but then he found his vodka and he's been like this ever since. You have him. I've officially clocked off as of now."

"Is he ill or drunk?"

"Both? Don't ask me, I'm not a nurse."

"Who's not a nurse?" L asks as he slams heavily onto the chair beside me, holding a bottle of whiskey which he's obviously managed to frighten the barman into selling. He seems fairly drunk in a rolling, slurring way already, and he's a fearless, argumentative kind of drunk, which leads into a depressing kind of drunk. This is not the way I had envisioned my evening. "Mihael, don't you dare go!" he shouts. Mihael had tried to make an exit that a ninja would be proud of, except that he couldn't look more conspicuous.

"I have to be somewhere. You owe me three hours overtime," he replies. "I'll remind you on Monday."

"Let's call it four and sit down. You'll like this a lot," L assures him. Unfortunately, he then notices me. "Hello! You look very dashing in a political way."

"I hear that you've decided to be an alcoholic."

"Oh, Mihael exaggerates. I started early, yes, but, alas, I am still vertical."

"Is there a reason why you haven't answered your phone?"

"Not really," he laughs, tipping my wine into a vase of flowers in the centre of the table and replacing it with some whiskey that I do not want.

"So you just forgot then."

"No, I was held up."

"We arranged to meet here at six," I remind him.

"I know."

"It's half eight now."

"I know that too. Oh, hold on, is it really? This day is so long. Will it ever end?"

"So it slipped your mind."

"You didn't. I do apologise, Prime Minister. I know how you rely on punctuality and ironed socks -" he says, but stops and stares at something behind me. "Oooh, he'll be here in a minute, he's just at the bar. Light, there's an old tart I'd like you to meet. He was a friend of my mother's and then he latched himself to my father. My father loved the aristocracy and their noses and hollow eye sockets. They have such historical noses, don't you think? Like a bird's beak. Really, their bone structures are the only things that make them interesting as a subculture and as human beings. I haven't seen him since I was seventeen. Well, I didn't really see him then because I was face down on a snooker table at the time. I always ended up that way when he was around."

I scrunch my face up in confusion and turn to look again at the ageing man at the bar. "Why were you face down on a... oh."

"Yes, darling boy. He doesn't exactly remember who I am, so this should be entertaining. He's one of the most prolific fuckers in the UK education system. Apparently he has a book somewhere which is a list of everyone he's ever had because he has the worst memory and likes to be reminded of what a repulsive shit he is. Then again, that was a school myth doing the rounds back in the day, so I can't testify to its veracity. I choose to believe that it's true and that he's an anthropologist or sexual historian in that way. It'd be so nice if it gets published one day. I'd love to see my entry. Ha. Entry. Now, you're going to have to be very, very nice to him because I'm not going to be and he needs some reason to stay at the table until I'm finished with him. He'll stay for you; you're just his sort, you and Mihael. Not that he's terribly discriminatory. Here he is. Lord Astbury! Please sit down. Light, Mihael, this is Lord Astbury. He's a professor of languages and specialises in Japonics, so I'm not sure why I'm surprised to find him here."

I dip my head when the tweed man cracks his vertebrae into some jittering bow, and that's all I can manage. Being flung into unknown territory with only L's drunken ramblings to base an opinion on makes me reserve my judgement.

"A pleasure to meet you," the man says in Japanese, all camp affability and olde worlde as he beams a smile at us all and sits next to L, turning to stare at him with a look of tentative recognition. "I remember you now. Are you Lawliet's son?"

"I was that," L nods slowly.

"Your mother was a fascinating woman. Is she well?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen her for over twenty years. My sister still speaks to her so I presume she's still alive. I haven't been told differently."

"She moved back to Aomori, didn't she?"

"I think that she sent me a postcard from there but, again, it was over twenty years ago. I think she's forgotten that she had other children."

"Shame, shame," he sighs, shaking his head until his dyed comb over is dislodged, revealing a bald spot of pink scalp. "But... have we met? You look familiar."

"I'm several bed notches of yours, yes. It depends how you keep tally, by the boy or by the deed," L says. Mihael looks at me and I look at him. I think we both look confused and horrified.

"Oh," Astbury sounds out, obviously shocked himself since his mouth purses into a loose 'o' like an echo. L seems pleased by the effect that he's had and leans on the table towards him in a psychotic storyteller mode.

"Let me remind you. I was fifteen and you fucked me in a stable, which was illegal. Not the stable, since the setting wasn't particularly important, although I think you frightened the horses, and that probably upset my father a lot more than you fucking his youngest son did. It's an interesting piece of trivia which might jog your memory." Mihael stands suddenly and squeezes past the back of L's chair. "Sit down," L tells him. "I have to speak to you. It's important."

"I've heard enough, thanks," he replies awkwardly.

"Fine, go, go. But I'll be phoning you later. Do not switch your phone off."

Mihael looks like he's going to say something but nothing comes out except air. His shoulders fall and he leaves, probably as disgusted as I am by who's sitting at the table. I look back at Astbury and try to imagine him twenty years younger, because he looks as virile as a piece of carpet as he is now. All sorts of images involving stables and a young, thin L being jolted all over the hay by this tweed suit makes me want to follow Mihael and throw up into a toilet. My head snaps back towards L's voice when he picks up the story, and I realise that my mouth is hanging open.

"Where was I?" L asks the ceiling. "Oh, yes, then there was a time in your house, but you didn't do anything to me then. Two weeks later at my father's fiftieth, you did. Having thought about it, I think you could only do it when you were in my father's house. Do you have a therapist?" he asks, but Astbury can't reply, he looks like he's dying. "Yes. Fifteen," L smiles maliciously as he reaches for the whiskey bottle. "Didn't know that, did you? Very careless of you. Don't worry, I'm not going to sue you or anything. It was all my fault after all, wasn't it? That's what my father told me. Trust no one. Anyway, have a drink, you old fucker, this whiskey is nearly as old as you are. This is the Prime Minister of Japan, by the way. Isn't he  _ridiculously_  good-looking?"

Astbury still looks stunned and stuck to his seat like he's just been hooked up to a car battery. He turns his head slowly to stare at me, and I can't stand the gluey, milky yellow of his eyes and the fact that L's pouring him a wine glass full of sixty-year-old whiskey. The man seems unable to even comment on what L's saying, let alone refute it. He's as guilty as sin.

"The Prime Minister?" he eventually coughs out.

"Mmmm..." L sounds out, dreamily. They're both staring at me now. One in shock, and the other with something like pride, dangling an example of his own success and affiliation in front of a man he despises. "Don't be fooled by a beautiful face," he tells him, like it's a secret. "I'd  _love_  to see what he'd do to you. You have to have a very strong heart to live through this man, so you'd be dead within ten minutes. You're lucky that I'm giving you the opportunity of looking at him, because that's the most you could ever hope to do. So, what brings you to Japan?" he tacks on with a bizarre cheerfulness.

"I'm... erm. I'm engaged to do a new translation of  _The Pillow Book_ ," Astbury stutters.

"What an admirable occupation you have," L says while pouring himself a glass of whiskey. The old man grasps at some semblance of having a polite conversation by trying to ignore what's been said.

"And what do you do now?"

"Many things. I trained as a barrister in England."

"Really? You... errr. You must work for your father's firm then?"

L pauses to drink his whole glass of whiskey in one go and coughs out gasps from his breathless lungs. "Woo. That wasn't a good idea, was it? I might regret that later. What? My father's firm? Yes. Of course, for it was expected of me as the only dutiful son with half a brain and a need to please. Speaking of, have you seen my father recently?"

"A few months ago."

" _Wonderful_!" L exclaims, hitting the table with his fist. "How is he?"

"Not too well, I'm sorry to say."

"So I hear. He's dead, actually."

"Pardon?" Astbury says. My mouth has dropped open again as I stare at L in disbelief, but he appears to be unaffected and void of any blue emotion. Just drunk.

"I'm afraid so. The firm called me this morning," he says. "We should have a toast to him. To the old guard. Jesus, are they playing The Carpenters? What is going on today?"

"L..." I manage to say. Words fail me.

"I'm perfectly ok, Light. It wasn't unexpected but The Carpenters are. Now, Lord Astbury, you probably won't remember this, but since we're having such a nice catch up, I'll say it anyway. When I was seventeen, you sent me a photo of myself which you'd cut out from the paper when I won the junior tennis championships. You wrote your address over my face. Do you remember that?"

Astbury is struggling to swallow and his lips have gone so visibly dry that I think that they might flake off entirely. He looks like he's completely drying out as his nose is flaking paper-like shreds on to his tie. I've never seen such a despicable, worthless creature in my entire life, and I've met Jeevas. I want to make his heart stop and to see him as ashes.

"No, I'm sorry. Are you sure?"

"Very. You know why you don't remember? Because I turned up. You always made me sick, but I turned up. What do you think that says about us both? I'll tell you. You were a dirty bastard, and I was going to kill you."

"We're going," I say, standing.

"Or at least smack you about a bit," L continues, ignoring me. "But you were so pathetic that I didn't have the heart to do it. You cried. Don't you remember? Or does that happen all the time?"

I don't like how kindly he's speaking now, like he feels sorry for the incredible cunt, so I grab his arm and try to drag him to his feet. "L, come on."

"Excuse me, I have to go, but I'm glad that I saw you again," L says to the stupefied man, brushing my hand away as he stands. "You're nearly the same age as my father, aren't you? When people your own age start dropping, you must know that your time is really running out."

 


	10. Maybe You'll Get A Replacement, There's Plenty Like Me To Be Found

The whiskey and his day-long drip feed of vodka has hit L like a forklift truck before we've even left the club. It turns him into a wordless zombie of pent-up anger as we step outside into the secure, enclosed and empty car park. He can only hold his whiskey bottle by the neck as he walks a few steps behind me. Our footsteps are muted by the sound of rain on car bonnets while my veins are almost audibly burning. I can't have that, so I search for something else.

Space is at a premium here. The upkeep and elitism of the club is one of the reasons why it was shut down in the first place. It was seen as an unnecessary expense by The Lady, mostly because she never wanted to go there herself. I think she only came here once, and that was only to have a piss. It  _is_  an unnecessary expense, but then, so are all the politicians. I'm streamlining the expenditure of other departments, and in doing so have found quite a lot of spare change to warrant reopening it. Only club members can use this car park, and as politicians like to see themselves as a different species from 'the public', it panders to their sense of self-importance. It's good to provide something for the workers; it lifts the flagging cock of morale and will be a fundamental reason for why I'll remain popular and entrusted with their unwavering support. I thought that it was a good idea, although on the surface it seems trivial and altruistic. Nothing is ever as it seems.

L stumbles and swears blame at some imagined thing that tripped him up. I don't know if it's worth speaking to him, but the thought that his father is dead and that his reaction is not to care very much, makes me think that it was just something he said to overwhelm Astbury into a heart attack. L is a man who personally hunted down a pregnant woman who accidentally smashed the brake light on his car while reversing and drove off without realising, just to shout at her. His viciousness and complete lack of pity and rationality at times in which he feels a personal injustice is like a particularly aggressive power top for me, and I think about it often during lunchtimes. I can't say that I don't actively encourage him when I'm not the source of that injustice, and sometimes even then; it completely depends upon my schedule for the next day. He holds grudges as other people would hold onto the side of a cliff for fear of falling, so it wouldn't surprise me if he used a lie to inflict the ultimate revenge upon someone he hates. He's also a man who shed an unashamed tear when his favourite pastry chef died, so I find it hard to accept that, if his own father died, that he would skip the grief process and go straight to not giving a shit.

"Is your father really dead?" I ask him.

"You think that I'd make that up?"

"What happened?"

"Well, he kind of  _died_ , Light. Oh, you mean how? From what I've been told, it sounds like a stroke to me. The housekeeper found him dead in his chair this morning. Face flat on the desk. Dead for hours."

"The firm actually told you that? God, that's heartless."

"No, I phoned up the housekeeper to find out the specifics. I like specifics, they make things more real. Now I can see him there with his nose squashed on top of some reference books like he was killed by work. Judge Lawliet, killed in the study by a law book. I'll probably end up the same way. Can't even say that he died from a life well lived because he was practically a Puritan. Fuck me, my head feels like a musical is going on in there."

"I can't believe that you found out and went to work."

"No, you can't believe that I didn't tell you as soon as I found out. You were asleep and what was the point of waking you to give you some wonderful news like that when you won't care about it anyway? He was my father, not yours. I don't want to exhaust you by making you feel obligated to be sad for me. I can do without the pretence," he spits, and then he actually spits on the ground. His voice sounds like poison seething under the surface. I have plenty of that for him too, and if he insists, then I'll give it to him undiluted. I stop walking, my car a few feet away, and it takes a drunk, lengthy second for him to notice.

"That's unfair, L," I tell him as he lazily turns around.

"I am unfair. If it was the other way around, I wouldn't care. Your father is a dick and so was mine. Just one less stain on humanity, I think."

"Shut your face. My father is a good man and he deserves your fucking respect even if you have none for me."

"He deserves none of my respect or anything else," he says loudly. With his newfound energy, he strides away from me, and I find myself walking after him without even considering it.

"Um... Hello? My car's here."

"You're observant." Oh, excellent, lay it on me. Dealing with a petulant man who has soaked his brain in society's endorsed reality buffer is exactly what I wanted.

"L, get in the car. Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to Mihael's."

"No, you're not," I sigh, putting my hand on his shoulder to steer him back towards the car instead of the gate, but he shrugs me away as he spins back towards me.

"For once in your life, will you leave me alone? You and your eyelashes."

"Shhh. Stop shouting."

"Shhh yourself and fuck off while you're at it."

"I'm not letting you go to get yourself mugged and killed. Who on earth would I hire to do my PR?"

"Ok. Firstly, if someone tried to kill or mug me or even talk to me right now, they'd be the dead ones, not me. Secondly, or thirdly... I don't know, I've lost count, but Mihael lives around the corner anyway."

"He's probably not even in. Come on, you're being stupid."

"I don't know what you're doing this for. Hanging around on your own for hours like some poor sod who can't accept that he's been stood up. It's not like we've ever been wild with happiness," he says, and it shocks my voice into a pathetically quiet tone.

"We've been happy."

"Light, you'll never be happy. And as for me, I can honestly say that I've never been happy while I've been with you."

I have some words which spring to mind in reply, but they're not the kind you'd say to a drunk unless you want a trip to the hospital. He snorts out a laugh, amused by my apparent loss of words.

"It's true," he says. "Sometimes you like something which isn't good for you. That's what you are to me."

"Stop it."

"You know it's true."

"You're drunk and I'm not listening to you. Just get in the car."

I forcefully take both of his arms in anger to drag him back if I have to. I didn't expect him to have any kind of coordination to fight me with any conviction, so I'm surprised when I see the flash of his watch catching the light like a knife in the dark as he shakes off my hands and grabs me by the throat, marching me backwards and slamming me against the side of a car. The car's alarms go off as my back hits it, and as it does, I feel the full force of L's hand wrapped under my jaw. My hand instinctively covers his like a claw and my neck strains with the thrill of constriction. I think for a moment that by not doing anything in retaliation, it's almost as if I'm helping him. His voice is low and disturbingly calm as he speaks.

"Don't you dare be fucking nice to me. I need to think and I can't do that when you're around."

"Let me go. There are cameras," I say, coughing as my jaw hits his hand when it moves. He hasn't cut off my air, it's just uncomfortable. What makes this worse is how disgusted he looks as he watches and sneers at me from arm's length. I can't kick him because of the camera. If I don't do anything, does that make me look weak? Or if I  _do_  knee him, does that make me look like I condone violence? I am a pacifist. I am a pacifist.

"You know, when I see you like this, you're not so special. You're just a completely blank slate which takes on the characteristics of those around you. You like what you're told to like and you do what you're told to do."

"Great, thank you. Now let me go and get in the car."

"Yes, Prime Minister, three bags full, Prime Minister. To me, you'll always be that nobody riding on Mikami's coattails. You're here because I put you here, never forget that. It kills you, doesn't it, being indebted? And you always thought that I was an idiot, didn't you? I used you, not the other way around, and I got what I wanted from you, so don't worry, you owe me nothing. I don't love you. I don't love anyone, so it's pointless you trying to make me do something that I don't want to do, because I could not care less about what you think or say. I know, I know. Yeah, in you I saw a storm coming. I was flattering you, Light. I only said it so you'd get in my bed. Flattery really  _does_  get you everywhere. I've been lying to you for a long time. I lie to everyone."

"What else have you lied about?" I ask.

"I couldn't possibly remember it all."

"To me. What have you lied about to me?"

"Again, the instances are far too numerous to recount."

"That's a lie in itself," I say, and see his eyes widen, like he's realised something. The car alarm stops screaming for a breather after realising that nobody is coming to save it, and L lets go off my throat.

"You're such a bastard," he whispers, rubbing his closed eyes with his fingertips. "You know me too well. I'm going to miss you."

"Let's just go," I say, and put my hand on his arm. I should be angry, but I'm not. I want him to take back everything he said and admit that he's just drunk before he passes out, otherwise his words will buzz around my head and never stop. Because there's some truth in there somewhere, it's not just barking noises. But he doesn't do that. He laughs at me.

"My  _God,_  you're gullible. You know what people are to me, Light? They're just like this bottle of whiskey. When they're finished, I just get a new one. You're finished. And so am I."

* * *

Well fuck him then. When someone walks away, you should let them. He walked away, so I got in my car, went back to my apartment, and haven't thought of him since. I can't sleep because of the throbbing ache in my head which refuses to incinerate itself to nothing. I watch the news but switch it off when my name is mentioned. I find it strange how he's probably drooling whiskey-tinged saliva on a pillow while I can do nothing but sit in a chair. It's like he's passed on some horrible legacy to me and that it's my burden now.

The sun is curving over the buildings outside, casting shafts of light and shadow around the room. My head turns slowly to the side when there's a slow, timid knock at the door, but apart from that, I don't move. I'm not being obstinate, I just want to wait and see if it's worth moving for. A minute later, there's another knock, but more insistent this time. I feel like I'm made of glass until my muscles kick in and remember what they're supposed to be. By that time, I've opened the door and I'm confronted with L looking like rat that's been drowned, stomped on, poisoned and electrocuted.

"I lost my tie," he says.

"And your coat?"

"Yeah. And my jacket. And I've forgotten where I left my car yesterday. But I still have some clothes on and I still have my shoes, so it could be worse."

"You could have just let yourself in. You have a key."

"I didn't know whether you'd want to see me."

"And why wouldn't I want you to wake me up for no reason at six in the morning on my day off?"

"Sorry."

"Getting drunk at my age still has that spark of hedonism, but at your age it's just sad."

"I am sad," he says, looking like he's been dropkicked around the room. I roll my eyes and walk back inside, leaving him him standing in the open doorway. Even after I've sat in the chair again, he's still standing there like a dipshit.

"What? Are you a vampire now?" I ask. "Do you need an invitation? Come the fuck in, Edward."

"I know that this is a cliché," he says, shutting the door behind him, "but I really am sorry and I really didn't mean what I said. I thought that you're supposed to forget all the things you've done if you drink enough. Why does it never work out that way? Maybe you just forget the nice things that you did."

I extend the silence before I speak. I hope it hurts him.

"Painkillers are on the table," I tell him, pointing at a small box so colourful that it would inspire optical pain if you weren't suffering before.

"Why? Do you have one of your headaches?"

"You mean after having you shout in my face and pin me up by the neck again? Yeah, I had a headache. You could have just kicked me in the shin. That would have been appropriately childish and unreasonable."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"Really? I should thank you then. Thank you for strangling me. Was Mihael home, or did you end up on a park bench?"

"Mihael was there. I fell asleep on his sofa and completely ruined his night, I think."

"That is quite a gift of yours."

"Look, I'd understand if you didn't want me here, but I was really fucking upset and I still am really fucking upset. More so now because of what I said to you. Where are you going?" he asks when I start walking towards the bedroom.

"I'm going back to bed."

"Oh."

The incredibly depressing tone he manages to express in that one word makes me pause and walk back towards him. I'm reluctant to because I was planning on spinning out my sense of mild injury for the purpose of entertainment, but I can't be bothered now. He presses his thumb into the pad of my hand which hangs limply by my side. It's some weak gesture of apology and thanks, I suppose, just because I'm giving him airtime when he expected to be ignored. He reminds me of myself when I'd been prescribed some antibiotics for a chest infection. I was just so delirious and grateful for what I perceived as a kindness that I wanted to kiss my doctor and pass on my disease.

"Give me notice in future if you're going on a bender so I can get the hell out of Tokyo, ok? I'm sorry about your father and your sexual experiences as a teenager and any other issues you have, but don't ever speak to me like that again. You will never be able to find your balls after I've finished kicking them back to kiss your kidneys. God, you look terrible. Brush your teeth."

A few minutes later and under sheets, I hear his footsteps in the room and close my eyes until he sits on the edge of the bed with his back to me. I watch him, silhouetted against the sky, as he chases down some tablets with the glass of water in a pained, shuddering way, like he's arthritic. I think he took four tablets when he's only supposed to have one or two. Maybe he shouldn't have any at all? They're prescription tablets, because the over-the-counter ones never work. Not that these work for me either, most of the time. I remember an article I read about how the pharmaceutical companies put acetaminophen in some medications, which is one of the major causes of liver failure. They do it to kill off the opiate junkies, I think. It doesn't actually work in any way, it's just a poison. Officially, it's there to prevent abuse, but it's never like that really. What if I'm letting him overdose in front of me? I don't know what happens if you take four tablets under normal circumstances, let alone when you're still eighty percent proof. What's the dosage on those things? Maybe he should eat something or, no, he might be sick. Maybe he  _should_  be sick so then -

"I'm sorry that I made you a part of that, Light," he says, interrupting my train of thought and replacing it with a new one.

He shouldn't be sorry. Lord Bastard should be sorry, and I'll make him sorry for what he's done to me. I wish Astbury despair, and he'll get it. It'll be my present to him before his inevitable slow and painful death. One of the only good things about being forced to stay awake is that my mind ticks like a fucked clock. I find some of my greatest, furthest-reaching plans this way. They just come to me like lost souls wandering under a big sky, and when I find them, they bring a calm certainty. I wonder if all this shows through my eyes and that L can see it from where he is. I like to watch him in the silence and see his awkwardness within it. What I know of love is that it's rage; a sort of floundering seizure of rage without direction. It will not be put in order. It will not listen to reason. I think, perhaps, that it wants to kill you. I don't know when it changed me, but I miss who I was before. Maybe the trick of living a long life is to be loveless. I can almost feel the years seeping away.

"Do you want to ask me anything?" he mumbles, like he doesn't want an answer but thinks that he has to ask anyway. My legs feel strangely heavy and stiff, having been crossed over the other one for a long time in that chair. I don't think that I moved an inch for hours and hours, come to think of it.

"Like what? Will you marry me?" I ask, ratcheting my dry lips across my dry teeth as he laughs and lies down, facing me. "No, the defence rests, your honour. I mean, you're obviously not feeling great right now, so that question's redundant. Don't worry. You won't see Astbury again."

He looks at me with some deep-rooted concern that makes me want to tell him that I've killed Astbury, just to see what his reaction would be. But it would be a lie, unfortunately.

"What have you done?"

"Nothing yet. I'm still in the planning stages. Still, he's out of the country and if he's not gone by Wednesday, then I'll have him arrested. There have to be some perks to this job."

"And for what reason would you have him deported?"

"I don't want him here."

"You can't get rid of everyone you don't like. Believe me, I've tried."

"We'll see."

"Just leave it, really. I appreciate it, but don't. I saw him a month ago in Ginza and I just crossed the road. He was invited to the club by that ingratiating little man in Culture, apparently."

"That knob. He knows that he can't invite civilians to the club but he keeps doing it anyway. He's going to get it in the neck on Monday."

"Ha! Civilians. Sack him."

"I'm going to reshuffle him to death. But why did you speak to Astbury? You made me sit at a table with someone like that. You poured him a fucking drink."

"I couldn't resist speaking to him. It seemed like fate that I see him today of all days. Life has decided to give me a pummeling."

"Why didn't you take him to court?"

"Light, you're taking about him like he's a rapist. He's severely lacking in basic morality, but he's not that, not really. It was a case of an older man with an agenda, and a curious boy who was looking for attention and got out of his depth. I don't hate him anymore. I hated him once, but mostly because my father sided with him instead of me, it's as simple as that. Time has not treated him kindly, so there's some poetic justice there at least. He has some terrible clothes and I've no idea what's going on with his hair, but he wasn't that bad to look at back then, if you like that sort of thing. Can't say the same for his personality though. Looking at him now, you'd think he was a lovely old grandfather to someone."

"I wouldn't say that. None of that makes any difference anyway. You're making excuses for him just to shut me up so we can forget  _all_  about it."

He looks at me like he did in my dream. 'Isn't this funny?'

"Oh. Your face. Come here," he sighs, pulling my head towards him to kiss my forehead. I feel an impending satisfaction of vengeance. I think of Astbury sobbing and not knowing why so many bad things have happened to him. "Don't feel sorry for me, please," L says into my hair. "Everything I've ever done has been for a reason. I used Astbury for a few reasons, but it was mostly to get my father's attention. I wanted to shock him into some display which would show that he cared for me, but he didn't, so there you go. I'll never know if he did now."

"I'm sorry about your father dying and everything, but he  _was_  a dick."

"Thanks," he grins tiredly. "Hey, tell me a secret. You know some of mine now. Make it an interesting one."

I kiss the base of his throat and the stubble on my neck drags against his shirt. We must look like gay hobos dressed in stolen clothes in this freezing room. His feet are like sculpted ice under the covers. I have no idea what to tell him, so I say the first thing that comes into my head.

"Sometimes I want to erase everyone so there's no one left except you and me."

"And bang goes your electorate," he laughs softly. "I've been a shit, haven't I? Did I hurt you?"

"In what way?"

"Your neck."

"Oh. No."

"How long were you waiting at the club? Two hours?"

"It doesn't matter."

"You wouldn't have waited five minutes for me once. I remember it, actually. It was three years ago or something. I was a couple of minutes late and you'd already left. It was ok, it just made me step up my game, but now you wait for two hours in a place that you hate until I turn up, and I'm a bastard even then. You could make me complacent. "

"Yeah, yeah."

"Still, in a lot of ways, I think I preferred you before. You were yourself then, and now you don't know what you are. I always destroy things."

"You haven't," I say dismissively. "If it makes you feel any better, I was five minutes away from leaving."

"Good. You should have. That does make me feel better."

"How's your carpet burn, by the way?" I ask, turning his face to one side. There's definitely a darker, angry-looking mark there which makes me take in an amused intake of breath. "Ooooh, nasty. Sorry." I slap the side of his face lightly as I click my tongue with guilt.

"I've had worse. I can't even feel my face now anyway. These painkillers of yours are fucking amazing things," he tells me. I don't know about that. I've probably taken a few years off his life by accident.

"I suppose that you're going to tell B all about it."

"If I called him every time I'm injured in battle then I'd be on the phone most of the time. I told him about my father this afternoon, but that's it."

"So you could phone  _him_."

"I wasn't avoiding you. Well, yeah, I was. B's just very good in a crisis and I don't know how you're going to react to anything from one second to the next. He told me not to drink and to go home, and did I do either of those things? No. Ah, that reminds me, don't pay me for yesterday. I did absolutely no work."

"Noted."

"I had a photo of my father and I, so I was looking for it. It took me a long time to accept that it's missing. I just needed to find it, but it's gone."

Oh shit. No, it's ok, I can get the photo from the Kantei and hide it under some papers in his office. He'll just think that he overlooked it when he finds it on Monday. I'm going to move the PR department to the offices at the Kantei anyway; it just makes sense. PR is one of the most important areas for a Prime Minister and I should have them close to hand, so to speak.

"It can't be gone," I say. "It's probably under all that shit on your desk. Ask the cleaner next week."

"Why would she have it?"

"I don't know. She might have dropped it so she's getting the glass replaced."

"No. No, she wouldn't do that. It was the only one I had that didn't make one or both of us look like we were a taxidermy exercise gone wrong. I don't know if B has a copy. He took the photo, which is another reason that I liked it."

"It'll turn up, L. You wouldn't be able to find anything in your office if you were hitting the vodka all day. Leave it until Monday. You'll find it."

"I don't think so, not now. You know what's funny? It's always been on my desk, wherever I've been, always. It's been there since I was eighteen and I often wished that it wasn't, but I kept it there all the same. Now, the one time I want to see it, it's not there. Why do you think that is?"

"If you don't look after your things then you shouldn't be surprised if they go missing."

"You're right. Again," he nods. It's nothing that can't be rectified on Monday, but I wish I could get the photo for him now. I regret taking it. I don't even know why I did. He'll just think that I was being vindictive if I admitted to it, and I don't think that I was. Well, maybe a little bit. It just felt like it was mine. "How was the House today?" he asks.

"Fine. You missed a good show."

"I'm sorry about that too. I like your shows."

"I slaughtered that complete shit," I say, the glory sliding between my teeth.

"In the opposition? I'm guessing that you didn't slaughter one of your own party's shits. In public, anyway."

"It was a good moment."

"So, you had a good day and I ruined it."

"You just gave me a headache. I have good fucking ideas but they'll argue against everything if they weren't the ones to think of it."

"Hmmm... They do that," he says, his attention drifting.

"What are you thinking?"

"Me? Oh, sorry. I was wondering what people will say about me when I die."

"That's uplifting. They'll probably say: 'That man was ninety percent sugar and ten percent bastard,'" I reply, and my smile hurts my face because of how broad it is. My head feels congealed with a kind of manic overtiredness. Cold air hits my teeth but I can't stop laughing, even though it's not that funny really.

"I'm glad that you think that my obituary is so funny, Light," he says, curving himself along my side. I rest my chin on the top of his head, since it's there. His hair feels soft and thick in these sensitive early mornings as his breath ghosts warmly across my chest. "Tell me what you're going to do."

"Tomorrow? I have a meeting about having a kitchen fitted and I've got to talk about security. That's as interesting as it gets."

"No, I mean about Kiyomi," he says, laying his arm across me. His finger presses into a gap between my ribs like he's trying to wake me up to the enormity of what he sees as a problem. He hasn't asked about Kiyomi and I haven't spoken about her. Everyone must have read about her sister's funeral and fuckups in the paper, so he couldn't have avoided that, but we've acted as if she doesn't exist. There are just fleeting mentions which I brush off like leaves.

"I don't have to do anything about her. She's not back for another week," I answer.

"This situation is so convenient for you. The universe wants you to have an easy life. And now you're Prime Minister, just like you wanted."

"The universe throws situations at me and I just make the best of them."

"Are you saying that I'm the best that you could come up with?" he asks. I breathe out a laugh and kiss his hair. His brain is under there somewhere.

"I knew that you'd come around eventually, you stupid bastard," I tell him, and his body goes limp beside me as he sighs. Yes, it must be annoying to realise that your righteous indignation crumbles so easily. I can only imagine.

"I was interested in seeing this out and that's the only reason I'm here. Well, that, and to apologise. You also have a bed and I needed to lie down."

I draw away from him so I can see his face, which he doesn't seem to like, so he rolls onto his back again and stares at the ceiling.

"What do you mean, see it out?"

"We'll just see less and less of each other until eventually you won't even recognise me on the street. It happens. I was always making small talk with men and they had to remind me that I was in love with them once and said that I'd never leave them. David, for example."

"Who's David?"

"Oh, David! Now then, there's a story."

"Do I need popcorn for this?"

"Maybe. I don't know why but he's been in my mind today and he has no reason to be, considering. I haven't thought about him for years, but I suppose he's relevant right now. He was too kind to me and I wasn't used to it. My father was... I don't know. I loved him more than he loved me. Or maybe he did, but he never showed it. And I grew up like that, the same as him. People like that mould you into versions of themselves. And my mother was just not there at all, as you know. David turned up at the wrong time for me. No, it was the right time. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here with you now - I would have pissed off years ago. He gave me the concept of patience. But when I've thought about him, it's always been from the perspective of me, as I was; some kind of feral, hungry for success, affection-starved brat. And now I have this new perspective. His perspective."

"Why?"

"It doesn't matter," he breathes out, and my face rises and falls with it before he speaks. "So, David was and still is, for all I know, a human rights lawyer. This was years ago, when I was a student. I have no idea where he is now, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was knitting in a monastery or something like that. He was thirty-something and should have known better, and I was... nineteen? Twenty? God, I can't remember, it was so long ago. The Germans wore grey, he wore blue, all that. I probably wore a fucking Umbro t-shirt. I don't remember a lot of it because I was off my head most of the time, but I must have been quite taken because I skipped an exam so I could follow him around. Of course, it ended badly; the exam skipping and him. He went to Africa on some charitable mission like a moron."

"Oh, one of  _those_  people."

"Yes. He was the most honest, selfless, decent person I've ever met. Always took cases on for nothing, so he was always going to be poor, but he didn't mind. He was a brilliant lawyer, really. I don't know what I was thinking. He made me realise that I was born to be a horrible person, so I should thank him for that. Before then, I actually thought that I was quite nice, and it's not good to be so self-deceptive. Something about those people make you think that you could be better though, and that they could make you better. Anyway, I remember crying myself into a pint glass for a few weeks after he left and it was all very dramatic because I do like a good bit of drama sometimes to heat up the room. I played 'Don't Go to Strangers' and The Carpenters over and over again until my neighbours in the flat below me moved out. Karen Carpenter knew my pain. He left me his record collection, so that's where I got my truly appalling taste in music that you're so fond of. I wanted to like what he liked, and if I didn't like it then I'd convince myself that I did. After he left, I went on some glorious self-destruct course and did a lot of terrible and entertaining things, including one of my lecturers, as it happens. Funny how things repeat themselves. Then it was all career; chasing things that didn't matter, people who didn't matter, and I wouldn't let them matter. And I was like that for a long time. I'd probably still be like that."

I yawn away from him and smile at how stupid he is. He takes on other people's meaningless tastes for sentimental reasons, formed by nurture rather than nature. I wonder if any of us are ever truly original if even L can't make his mind up for himself.

"Who's Karen Carpenter? I thought you meant that you went in for a lot of woodwork and there's a certain type of music for that."

"Shut up, idiot child. You're annoying the grown-up with your wilful ignorance. 'I love you in a place where there's no space or time. I love you, for in my life, you are a friend of mine. And when my life is over, remember when we were together,'" he recites, like it's poetry. I hope that they're just terrible lyrics and not a hungover declaration. Then he sighs wistfully and I feel like someone's shat in the bed.

"God," I breathe out, looking back at the blank ceiling. If you stare at it for too long you could make yourself believe that you're blind. "That's fucking atrocious."

"Cue sax solo. Of course you'd think that it's sentimental."

"It does sound sentimental."

"I'd love to have found you after you'd had your heart broken," he says sadly. "This would be so different then. But that wouldn't happen, you're too clever. I've just found you at the wrong time. You need someone to rip your heart out, and maybe I'll do that so someone else will benefit from it."

"Whatever you say. All I know is that it would take five weightlifters to strap me into a chair before I'd listen to that shit."

"How do you know it's shit? You've never heard it and you have no soul, so be quiet. I also thought that 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' was written just for me. I was going through a retro phase and was fond of barbiturates at the time, which might explain it. Do you even have a favourite song?"

I think about it for a moment, but nothing springs to mind, so I shrug it off.

"I don't think so," I say, and he's appalled.

"No? What about a favourite film? A book?"

"Not that I can think of. Why?"

"God, you're not human," he sighs.

"I just don't have favourite things. So, David ripped your heart out and gave you his shitty record collection. So much for him being an amazing person."

"You've missed the point; it wasn't necessarily a bad thing and it wasn't his fault. Nobody wants it to happen, but it's... yeah. I was young, so a few months seemed like forever and I felt that I was being abandoned again. It all goes back to your childhood, doesn't it? So predictable. Earlier on, I was thinking how my relationship with David started out similarly to how mine started out with you, like a role reversal, only he had good intentions and I had nothing of the sort. No, I was like you in a lot of ways. I was looking for opportunities and saw him as a bit of a meal ticket, but ended up liking him more than I had expected. When he left, I was sure that my heart was broken and I developed an irrational hatred of fair trade products. Fast forward a good few years and I walked right past dear David. He chased after me and was very upset that I was so inconstant and defending a serial rapist in one of my first high-profile cases."

"What?"

"I won. It wasn't my fault that I convinced the jury of his innocence only for him to go out and reoffend a couple of months later. I was made a partner because of that case."

"I wish that I hadn't asked," I say, my face heavy with a set-in frown. I think of the repercussions and misery L had a hand in. He saved that man unjustly, with no sense of morality or shame. The man reoffended but couldn't be tried again for previous crimes, so he'd serve a lower sentence than he should have. My headache rages and splits above my eyes suddenly, making me feel sick again.

L laughs, not knowing how close I am to heaving since my expresson must just be that of a quiet bitter pill. He arches forwards to kiss me briefly before flopping on his back again like he's attached to a bungee cord.

"You don't like it when I tell you things like that, do you? You always look so disappointed. Not so much with me, but as though you're responsible somehow. It's a bit late for me to find a conscience now. When a court decides that someone is innocent, then they are, even if they're guilty. If I was on the other side, I would have won then too because they were just incompetent with their circumstantial evidence. But I'm telling you about David because... I think that I'm out of my tree right now. And also because I'm trying to say that things which seem very intense at the time, don't stay that way. Human nature dictates that people like you and I can't stop and smell the roses. There are no fucking roses. Something more interesting will come along as we tire of each other, and I'm expecting it any day now. You don't need me anymore to help you with your career, and I can't compete with a girl in a pair of Louboutin's. David is the reason I changed my mind and didn't fuck off like my instincts told me to, because then I would have told  _you_  to fuck off."

"I won't point out that you have told me to fuck off several times, but I'm glad that you didn't fuck off," I tell him, but he just laughs at me. "You don't believe me, do you? You don't believe a single word I say."

"Can you blame me?" he asks, still laughing at me. For some reason it hurts right to my fibres and makes me want to put the TV on while I drown him in the bath, so I rub my forehead instead. There's a pressure cooker inside me and the violence is so close, just chained down. The chains rattle for the strangest reasons. I don't like him preaching to me. I do and don't want to know about David and some pervert who fucked him when he was fifteen. It's annoying that he's telling me all this like he's imparting some great message of enlightenment which will make me wake up tomorrow with a new take on life.

"I thought that you'd know what to believe and what not to believe," I say. The sadness shows through in my voice, I think, but he still sounds like he's dying from humour.

"Why would I know that, Light? You don't have a little LED on your head to let me know when you're lying and when you're not, so I just presume that you're lying all the time. It's easier that way."

"Oh. Well. I can't do anything about that."

"It's ok. When I was your age, I was just like you. I loved my career more than anything because it's one long race to win and prove that you're better than everyone else, right? But, you know, like with David, he wanted me to go with him to some godforsaken place to inoculate children and donkeys or something, and I just didn't want to. I don't give a shit about children or donkeys or anything else, and I wasn't any different then. I wanted to stay in London and carry on the way I was. He was a distraction, and that's what I am to you. I'm asking too much of you at this point in time. Now I want to find out where David is and say: 'Listen, sorry that I was such a twat back then. Some bloke's doing the same thing to me as I did to you, and I'm sorry, because it must have hurt like a bitch. I wasn't worth it. Do you want your record collection back?'"

"Don't find him."

"I'm not going to, don't worry. I just want to go to sleep and wake up in a few years when you're older and you know what I know. Live a bit, Light. Be a fucking idiot and get your heart broken, then come back and wake me up."

"I'd like to know what you know that I haven't worked out after thirty years of life. You're only thirty-seven."

"It's not because I have a few years on you, it's that I've lived and you haven't. Life threw itself at me and I took it home. You told life that you weren't in and gave it directions to someone else's house. I just know that it means nothing, all this. Your apartments and houses and wages and cars and suits; they're just nice things. You think they're important now but they're not."

"I know that."

"Are you just filling your time with it? I know what that's like."

"I know what's important."

"What's important, Light?" he asks. I look at his hand which is sort of curled on the bed, and I want it hold it and the branch of veins that stand out, meeting, running up his arm and disappearing. After waiting for a minute, the hand lifts and I watch it come towards me like it's not attached to anything. The fingertips touch my face gently and I turn to L as he rolls on his side towards me. "If I left, what would you do?"

"Erm... wait until you came back?" I say, and laugh when he does. "Ha! I don't fucking know! What do you mean?"

"I was just thinking that maybe I could wait, but I hate waiting for anything, especially for things I can't rely on. You might be different in a few years. In my head, you'll get this career thing out of your system and then you'll think: 'Shit! I wish L was here,' but I won't be there. And then maybe you'll divorce Kiyomi and resign. Maybe you'll turn up on my doorstep one day."

"I'll always be on your doorstep."

"I'd like that. I really would. But it won't happen," he replies sadly but, in his usual way, he covers it with a smile and blinks slowly as he turns away. "The stars are not aligned," he breathes out.

"We're ok."

"Of course we're not ok, you idiot," he shouts suddenly. "I'm fucking furious with you. Why can't you see that? I can't put the intensity of my hatred for you into words."

"But... Hold on, you said -"

"Light, never forget that if I'm anything, I'm a liar. I lie constantly, and only to amuse or save myself. I've put up with you because I thought that you might get your head together one day, but you're not going to, are you. What hurts me is that it's not because you're being stubborn so much as you're just genuinely confused. You don't know what love is and you wouldn't know it if you felt it. You wouldn't know it if it hit you over the head with a mallet. You'd just twist it into something ugly instead because it'd be easier to deal with."

"For God's sake, will you lay off blahing on about this same old thing over and over again? I don't know what you expect me to do."

"I don't expect to do anything, that's the problem. This is the last time, I promise. If you believe that Kiyomi and your job aren't factors, because, let's face it, they're the same thing, then that's sad. And if you think that I'll believe that Kiyomi and your job aren't factors, then you're an idiot. Either way, I'm fucked. You won't wait for me and I won't wait for you. Never mind though, eh? We'll always have Paris."

"Don't think that I don't see what you're trying to do. Everything sounds like a goodbye from you and I won't have it, so get it out of your head. I'm sorry that your father's dead and that you find it necessary to speak to Lord Shit and get pissed, but don't start this with me again. For your sake, don't. If you run away from me, you'll die of it eventually and you know it."

"I'll die if I stay and I'll die if I go?" he asks, and I'm surprised that he has no other words left and just lies there, and that makes me regret saying anything. I'm starting to think that I should just nod my head and agree with everything he says instead, because he'll never be happy otherwise. I hate that he's not saying anything now, so I'll take him somewhere else. I climb on top of him and hold him there. It's like a dream I had once. I lower my head to kiss him until he moans into my mouth in a way that is to be felt more than heard, and open my eyes to see his closed. It makes me think of all the funerals I've ever been to, and every open coffin.

"Don't start, just don't. Don't fight me."

"We'll forget about it," he says. "But you have to make a decision soon, and I'll be the loser, I know. It's the way things are. But until then, yeah, no fighting."

I tell him that he's not a loser, or maybe I don't. Existence crashes headlong into me when his mouth is on mine, and I realise how inappropriate this is. His dead father might as well be in the room with us. We should be drinking endless cups of coffee and sitting in silence until the old man ascends or descends to wherever he's been judged to go. L's hungover, or maybe still a bit drunk, and I fed him poison as well. No, they're tablets, it's ok, I take them all the time. It was an accident. I don't make mistakes. Why do I care anyway? I've been with a palette of men and women in my time, spanning ages as colours do, and I don't know what makes me him so different. I want nothing in my head, so I'm fighting thoughts away, not concentrating on what he's doing until my own unexpected gasp breaks my control of him and he controls me instead. My stomach muscles clench, I feel sweat beginning to push through my pores, my forehead presses against his and I hold the bed frame above his head so I don't collapse from this one disgustingly simple touch of his hand. I hardly hear him. All I can hear is myself.

"Oh. For me," he whispers. "And after all this time."

"After all this time."

* * *

Everything I own has a neon yellow sticker attached with 'keep' or 'sell' written on it.

Not many people are in the place we end up in, and we sit in a dark corner so I can take off my sunglasses and have some hope of remaining unnoticed. L puts his phone on the table next to him, which he never does, and annoyingly keeps pressing it alive every ten minutes or so. We both look like we're close to death. He's wearing a coat and shirt of mine which hang off him in strange places over trousers he's worn for twenty-four hours. He wouldn't take one of my suits so I could dress him entirely in my clothes. His trousers smell of rain, old whiskey and me.

Just as I'm about to place some rice in my mouth, I see something unpleasant across the room.

"Shit."

"What?" L asks, lifting up some rice from his plate and peering as if there might be something better underneath.

"Jeevas and Mikami are over there. Why is Mikami always with him? He hates him."

"I don't know, because they have so many drugs in common? Shouldn't Jeevas be on honeymoon though? We should leave. He'll put me off my coffee," he says grumpily, turning to look. When he turns back he taps his phone and apparently doesn't like the time. "Actually, I better go anyway. Light -"

"No, they've noticed us," I interrupt as I stand up. "I'll have to go over. We've just had a game of tennis, ok?"

"Haven't we always? We really do play a lot of tennis. It's early though, were we playing at dawn? They're going to expect us to go pro at this rate."

"You stay here then."

"And miss this? Never. I'll pay and be over in a minute. Don't say anything insulting to him until I get there."

We leave in different directions at the same time, and I slide past the narrow aisle of empty chairs and tables until I reach Jeevas and Mikami. Naomi's here too, but I didn't notice her at first. All I see is a pair of heavily made-up eyes and all the bones sticking out of her chest. So this is a honeymoon in Jeevas' estimation? I had some part in it because I refused to give him time off, even unpaid. He's had what days he was entitled to already and this is his punishment for being Jeevas.

"Small world. Mikami, Naomi," I mumble. My eyelids are already heavy with lack of sleep and boredom. Jeevas' company is the equivalent of going to a skiffle concert.

"Hi, Light!" Naomi replies cheerfully like I've saved her from a fate worse than death. I suppose that I have.

"I'm surprised to see you up and about so early in the day, Jeevas."

"We went to a concert last night," Naomi tells me. That explains her drawn, gaunt face and her bedraggled, all-nighter clothes.

"Yagami. Speak of the devil," Jeevas says, and sucks something off his thumb. God. "We were just discussing your complete lack of a sex life."

"How nice of you. It's just a shame that you know absolutely nothing about my sex life."

"What with Kiyomi away and all. How  _are_  you coping?" he asks, with dramatic and patronising concern. I am waiting for the best he can give me. My slightly injured, nettled mood is perfect for Jeevas right now, and the place is otherwise empty, so I can rip him to shreds without restraint.

"That, Jeevas, is my business, not yours. I'm not interested in you or your sexual conundrums concerning me in the dark recesses of your mind."

"Yagami..." Mikami starts. He looks like he has something important to ask me and I think that I know what it is.

"I haven't forgotten, Mikami. Don't worry," I tell him. It covers all bases anyway. Jeevas jumps in when he sees L.

"Morning, Lawliet. Let me guess, tennis? You both look like shit."

"Light plays a good but tiring game," L replies.

"I'm sure that he's fucking marvellous at all things, it's just expertly disguised with ineptitude and gay supermodel poses."

"Gay supermodel poses?" I repeat. The accusation of ineptitude doesn't bother me because that's obviously baseless, but what the very fuck gay supermodel poses?

"I approve of gay supermodels, obviously. And their poses," L sighs. I'm not sure if it's his way of defending me or he's just stating a fact of life and doesn't see how the comparison might not be a flattering one for me. "Sometimes it's the only way I can get through the day."

"Jeevas was just considering my sex life, L," I explain, deciding to skirt around the whole matter and fixate on the one with the most mileage and opportunity for slaughter. I have to pose, it's part of my job. Knuckle dragging dickhead.

"Oh, really? Well, I'm no one to comment, but I'm sure that it's stunning," L says, looking tiredly amused while putting on the coat I gave him.

"It's not bad. Thanks for your concern, Jeevas, but there's really no need for you to worry."

"I'm not worried about you, Yagami."

"You should be. I feel that I have to remind you of who I am and that it's really not appropriate for you to think about my personal life. I can't stop you, of course, but you really should just mull it over on your own with a box of Kleenex rather than discuss it with people, because, as I say, remember who I am. Have you forgotten that you're supposed to work in Foreign Affairs? I hate to break it to you, but your job entails the promotion of our interests abroad and building relations with other countries. It doesn't mean that you should fuck them in their respective consulates. Yes, I heard about that."

"Hey!" Naomi blurts out, looking very offended for some reason.

"Sorry, Naomi, but you've married a moron. I meant to tell you before you married him." She could do better and I should have told her. She has done better in the past, but he just had to go off and get himself killed, didn't he.

Jeevas starts shouting at me in English. I catch the occasional word, but mostly it's just a glottal stopping mess that a native speaker would have trouble making sense of. I hold up my hand to interrupt him.

"Excuse me, I need a translator. L, would you do the honours? What is he saying to me?"

"It's not very complimentary," he tells me.

"I'll tell you in your own language then," Jeevas says, standing up, hand on hip. "You're a prick."

"Careful, or I'll have to recommend that you be removed from your department. I think that I can do that now. What do you think, L?"

"You're the boss. On a personal note, I think that it would be a wise decision. It's not like he holds a seat and his ability is negligible, even in a barbershop choir pimp sort of way."

"Good point, well made. He scrabbled into politics like a fascist rat down a drainpipe which is lubricated with nepotism. Maybe you should consider a career change, Jeevas? You don't look well. And you're a bastard. I think it's all getting a bit too much for you and I need people who can give their all to my government."

"Light -" Naomi begs, but Jeevas can't stop himself.

"Fine, Yagami. You do that. And I'll tell them that you're a jealous, bitter piece of shit. Let's see who they listen to."

"That's sounds great to me. Good luck with that, and make sure that you're packed up and out of your office first thing on Monday morning."

"Matt, please. Let's just stop, hey? Time fucking out," Naomi demands, taking Jeevas' arm and pulling him away. It seems like it's over, but then he turns around and starts shouting again.

"And you know what? Like anyone believes that you've got a sex life, even when Kiyomi's in town. What sex life? You're probably being banged by old Lawliet here."

"Less of the 'old', please," L says, "The technical term is mature. You know, I'm not sure if you two are aware that all this animosity is coming across as compelling sexual tension. I'm not complaining, I'd just rather that you weren't involved, Jeevas."

"Piss off. You're just the same as him. Wanker," Jeevas hisses. I look at Naomi, whose eyes are impossibly large and frightened as if she knows what I'm going to say.

"Naomi, would you mind telling your orchestra of lazy sperm about the four times that we -"

"SHUTHEFUCKUPLIGHT!"

"Don't bring my wife into your delusions," Jeevas says, pointing a bony finger in my face to emphasise every point. "You. Wish. That's your problem, Yagami. You're just some boring bastard and a closet fag. Misa told me about you." He smiles smugly and turns around like he's been waiting his whole life to say that to me. This is his idea of a coup d'état in a Sergio Leone film. The credits roll as he walks into the sunset. Like fuck they will.

"Hey, Jeevas?" I call after him, and he faces me again.

"What?"

"Fuck off, you depraved village idiot without a village, and in that direction. When you reach the sea, keep fucking off until you hit land. And if you don't drown, please come and find me so I can tell you to fuck off all over again."

"It  _was_  you who sent me that memo with a link to that 'How to Fuck Off' wiki page!" he shouts. I have no idea what he's talking about. I do remember a general email sent to all departments which had 'FAO Jeevas' as the subject heading, and for that reason, I didn't read it. I wish that I had now.

"No, that was me," L admits. "I saw it and thought of you."

"Ok. Hold my coat, Naomi, love. I have some shit to kick," Jeevas laughs. I'm not sure if he means me or L, but I'm more than willing to step forward.

"If I wasn't sure that I'd catch a venereal disease if I touched you, I'd cut your cock off and use it to stir my espresso and pick my teeth with it afterwards."

"You're going to need a bigger cup."

"An egg cup might be a better fit. Maybe I could borrow one from your mother after she's finished fucking you and all the other interbred, loose-toothed, pink pony fucking, grandmother mugging, vagina-faced, vomit guzzling, baby killing, rectal smears within driving distance. Every single cell of you is ugly."

"Oh, Jesus. You know World War Two? That was funnier than you are, Yagami."

"You're the scientific proof that there is no God and you're solely responsible for the suicide rate in this country. Every time I breathe the same air as you I want to press a big red button on some nuclear warheads."

"Suck my balls until they grind your teeth down, fuckface."

"Fuck yourself running with a sandpaper condom in a shit burning incinerator."

"You wank off over babies' coffins."

"You can only get an erection if Ronald McDonald sticks a red-hot tuba up your arse and calls you Susan."

"Your hair is stupid," he says. His face is red and it's getting redder. After the initial tumbleweed passes by, there's a vowel laden sound of disappointment and shame from the onlookers and I start to laugh, almost hysterically.

"What?! My hair is stupid? That's the best you have? You're funny in a way that would be funny if it wasn't so unintentional. In the past, people like you were dragged through the streets by a horse and cart while everyone threw vegetables at them on public holidays. It's something that I should consider reinstating."

"Punch a Jeevas Day," L nods approvingly.

Jeevas can only breathe while I feel a burning sense of victory which is wasted on him. Naomi drags him towards the bar and Mikami smiles at me before he follows them. I am full of energy and it just pools inside of me. I'm so glad that I came here, but now I have to go, it's too much to be contained in this building. I have that meeting with an interior designer who's going to fit the new kitchen for when Kiyomi comes back, and I've just decided that I want black to be the main colour scheme. Kiyomi won't like it, but she will just have to live with it. I walk towards the exit because I am fucking done here. Mikami, Jeevas and Naomi are long gone, and L races to catch up with me as I walk down the stairs.

"Well! That was more entertaining than I expected," he says casually. "I thought that you were just going to say hello. I am very impressed."

"I hate him," I tell him. And I do. All the hatred I feel for him shudders through me, making my voice jittery and breathy like dubstep. He's nothing. He's not even a toe bone of the man Penber was, and what  _is_  Naomi doing in using him as a replacement? "I'm only waiting for him to die, then I'll piss on the flowers on his grave. God, I hate him. No, not hate. I  _despise_  him."

"Yes, I gathered. You're not alone there," L assures me. "You're strangely charming when you're insulting people too. Quite special really."

"Do you mean special in inverted commas?"

"No, just your regular shop brand special."

"Is my hair stupid?" I ask.

"Of course not! Maybe you could cut down on the hair products, but I'm very fond of your hair. You're not actually taking any notice of what he says, are you?"

"Yeah, right. But, y'know, it's my hair. I mean, that's fucking low."

"Terrible insult, yes. Oh shit, look at the time. Wait a second," he says, grabbing my arm to stop me. I push past him and keep walking. I don't have time for this and I need to get outside. "Light, I have to tell you something."

"I'm running late, L. Can it wait until later?"

"Not really, I'm late too. I'm, um, I'm going abroad for a while," he mumbles. It takes a second for the word 'abroad' to sink in, and when it does, I stop dead.

"Whoa, what? What and where and why and no fucking way."

"I have to go to London to sort some things out."

"Why do you have to... Oh! For the funeral! Ok, I understand. Sorry, I should have thought of that. I'll clear it with HR. You should have told me earlier though."

"I rarely do what I should," he says. "I don't know, I just didn't feel like it. It wouldn't have changed anything. I wanted to spend this time without thinking about it and what I'm doing. I like to deal with these things on my own. Anyway, I've made some arrangements and have someone to cover for me so -"

"You think that I'm pissed off because you haven't given me any notice for work? You have to go, of course you do. Take as much time as you need but not too much and... _fuck!_ Just give me a second to get my head around this. Right. When are going?"

"Now, actually."

"Today?"

"I'm sorry. I'll send your shirt and coat back. I'll wash them, don't worry."

"But. When will you be back? A week will be enough, right? This is utter shit. You can't wash that coat; it's a hundred percent wool and it's dryclean only. No, this  _is_  utter shit. Kiyomi comes back in a week and you'll be in London. Your father had the worst timing, L."

"Yes, but I can't really complain to him about it now, can I."

"I suppose not. Right, ok. How long will you be gone?"

"Well, that's a bit of a sore point. I'll probably be a few months."

"L!" I shout.

"Shhh... remember where you are," he tells me quietly. He grasps my elbow tightly and starts walking both of us towards the door as he talks quickly and unemotionally at first, looking straight ahead like he's been preparing for this and brought an autocue just in case he forgets his lines. "Cut that shit out right now. I'm going and I don't want any scenes. You have no control over this and you need to get used to that. Surrender to the feeling. It's nice, isn't it? Just don't make this more difficult for me, ok? I have to sort out my father's estate and our firm in London. You'd think that as an ex-judge he would have made out a will that wouldn't leave room for vultures, wouldn't you? Noooo, way too much to hope for. My complete  _shit_  of a brother, Deneuve, and some of our partners have contested, and my other shit of a brother smells money and looks like he's taking Deneuve's side. The poor bastard's only been dead twenty-four hours, for fuck's sake," he exhales.

"You don't have to be there the whole time. Can't you work on it from here?" I ask before realising that I'm not being very sympathetic when I should be. I'm trying to remember how long probate takes in this country but my head is so full of noise that my thoughts don't run in a straight line from question to answer like they normally do. "I'm sorry. Can I do anything?"

"Kill my brothers? No, no, I'll do that, figuratively speaking. But, yes, explanation. It looks like they want to split up the firm or sell it off entirely and buy me out. Nothing like a global financial crisis to bring out the mercenary in everyone. This would have an effect, not only on the London branch, but all of them, and that's my livelihood so, y'know, I have to bring all the fury and win, don't I. I also want my father's house because he promised it to me. The thought of Deneuve getting it and moving his hat trick of mutants in there makes me want to set fire to the place instead. His bat-faced wife is probably rooting through the silver as we speak. She's such a patronising shit, sending me yellow skinny jeans for Christmas. Bitch."

"Your family is horrible."

"Yes. I slept with her darling 'Timmy's not gay, he's just sensitive!' brother five years ago though, and believe me, it was not a pleasant experience.  _And_  he gave me the clap. I've been waiting for the opportunity to tell her face to face if she ever crossed me again. Now I can paint her a picture, so there's one silver lining to this whole thing. I don't know, Light. I probably have several court cases to deal with as well as arrange a funeral, because no one seems to have thought of that. God, why did we have to walk? There's one of those elevators over there, you know? So, yes, there you go, you're up to speed. I'm not having the best day. On top of that, the only seat I could get on the plane is in economy. In short, I'm pretty fucked off."

"How long exactly will this take?"

"A while."

"You said that. I want a timeframe."

"I can't give you one. Probate, business ownership and contesting of wills just crossover into a massive clusterfuck. I really don't know how long it'll take right now and I don't want to think about it because it's all up in the air, isn't it. But what I was thinking last night is that it's a good thing. It's a good thing. It's a full stop, isn't it? Full stop, new paragraph," he says, convincing himself because I'm not offering any reassurance. I don't know what he means and I refuse to walk like this anymore; this sort of half-hearted race outside with his tangling words which I can't take in. I feel like I've splintered into insects and they're crawling the walls inside my head because I don't like how anxious he is. It can't be that bad.

"L, just slow down," I tell him, pulling him to one side to stand still for a minute. "I can't understand you. You're talking too fast and you don't make any sense."

"Sorry," he breathes, and forces himself to calm down a little by tapping his bottom lip obsessively as he speaks. "I mean that if I leave now, then it's a good thing. It's better this way because I have a genuine reason to go and it's nothing to do with you -"

"You're coming back."

"I can, but it might be best if I don't."

"Shut up. You have a job here and you're coming back, so shut up."

"Work. Ok," he says, and swallows. "Light, can't you ever say anything that isn't so fucking beige?"

"What do you want? Stop being so dramatic. Al Pacino called, L. He wants his Oscar and overacting skills back. We have a contract and I'm not letting you break it. That's all there is to it."

"Contracts?! Great. That's great. You've shut down on me again just when it matters. I need you to give me a reason or tell me if I'm wasting my time. I'm going, Light. This is me going and I might not see you again unless you give me a real reason. It's a long flight to sit through when you're miserable. Say the right thing."

His voice is breaking up like he's on the phone in an area of bad reception, or maybe it's my hearing. I grip his arms so I can tell him what he's going to do.

"You're going and it doesn't matter how long for because you're coming back."

"For work," he says blankly.

"Yes."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Yes you can and you will. You will fucking well come back or I'll go over there and I'll find you. Look, let's just go somewhere and plan this out. I need to plan this out."

"And I need to get a taxi," he says, and he's like a drone suddenly, walking outside. I follow him and just stand there looking at him while he watches the cars going past. He could work on the legal bollocks and arrange the funeral from here. I'll help him. I can do things like that. I'm very good at things like that. I have a degree. He doesn't need to stay there, he could just fly out for a week or so at a time. He could go while I'm away; it wouldn't matter then. I'm sorting this out already with no time to think about it and it's not as bad as he thinks.

"What's with the taxis and the rushing around?" I ask, standing in front of him. "I mean, yeah, if you want, we'll get a taxi back to my apartment. Do you need to go back to yours? I'll drive you."

"I have to get to the airport. I have a flight booked. Will you make sure that Mihael finds my car?"

"What, you're going now? You can't. Hold on, put off the flight. I'll sort something out."

"What are you planning to sort out? I have to go and bury my father, Light."

"He'll still be dead if you get a flight tomorrow," I say without thinking, and his initial shock is broken by a sudden burst of laughter. I drag my hand through my hair, exasperated by us both. "Sorry. This is just... some warning would have been nice, L. Is there no way that you can deal with it from here?"

"I'm afraid not," he tells me with a cheerful calm that worries me. I preferred it when he was frantic and couldn't breathe because he was throwing words at me like bullets. "Now, about the office. This is my notice of the anticipatory breach of my contract, I'm sorry. Feel free to sue me for damages, I'll just add it to the pile. Until you've made a decision, I've asked someone to stand in for me from the firm. I picked her myself and her name is Halle. She starts on Monday and don't piss her off because you'll have trouble finding anyone who's as capable. Mihael's drawing up a list of contacts for you - press and things like that - and they should be on your desk by tomorrow morning. If they're not, feel free to beat his head in with a photocopier. And -"

"Just shut the fuck up, will you?" I shout, losing conviction towards the end when an old woman stares at me as she walks past to make sure that it is actually me. I have to close my eyes for a second while L continues.

"This is all important, Light. Just so you know that I'm not leaving you completely high and dry and that I don't expect you to keep my job open for me. I'd think that there was something wrong with you if you did, actually. Sympathetic leave only extends so far. Personally, I have as much time for giving employees sympathetic leave as I do for parental leave. How is it my fault as an employer that they've decided to do something stupid?"

"Please don't."

"Don't what? Are you telling me that you're sorry to see me go or that you support parental leave and find me offensive?"

"You're not going," I say. "Not like this. You don't even have a suitcase. What will you wear?  _That_? For months? You haven't thought this through at all. You don't even have a full suit. You have one pair of trousers and, to be honest, they stink of whiskey and soon they'll just stink. You'll wash that coat in a washing machine, won't you? It'll shrink, and then you won't even have a coat."

"This is grim. Look at me breaking all the rules and stinking the place out. I'll be lucky if I'm not completely naked by Thursday. I have my passport and my wallet and I have me. I'll be fine."

"L, I'm just pointing out that you should put this off until tomorrow and pack like a normal person."

"I'll buy new clothes when I get there."

"You'll buy awful clothes. You'll wear tweed three-piece suits and mustard coloured ties with pink shirts, I know it. Everyone there wears fucking tweed!"

"Oh, Light," he laughs.

"What?"

"Nothing. I just love you, that's all."

He walks away and it takes him some time to notice that I'm not with him now that he's a few feet away and he's hailed a taxi and he's opened the door and he's talking to the driver and I'm still standing here and I need to stop this from happening. Or, maybe I should just let it happen. A shadow is telling me that I should let it happen. The thought washes over me like a calming, icy wind I used to feel all the time. L's right - it is better this way. He won't come back and I won't find him.

All I can think of for a minute then is how annoyed I am that it's so bright out here. I'm in the shade, but where he is it's blinding white. I know why he told me; it's because he's selfish and he thinks that it'll shock some knee-jerk response out of me. There'll be more people around soon and I have to get out of here. I look left and right to find a way out.

"Have I actually left you speechless?" he calls over to me, grinning, and with his hand on the taxi door. "That's quite something. If I'd known that it would have that effect then I might have done it earlier. You better get going. You have that meeting soon, remember? Your kitchen. You're running late and my plane leaves in half an hour so that doesn't leave me much time."

My voice doesn't sound like my own. There's so much blood pounding through my ears that everything sounds far away from me.

"But I don't understand why."

"Oh. Well, I'll explain," he says, and walks back to me through the line between darkness and sunlight so I can see him properly again in his colours. He stands close enough for me to hear him speak softly. "I'm not sure why either. Clearly you can't imagine why anyone would think anything of you, and I'm inclined to share your consternation. But here's the thing, and there's no logic behind it. I never thought that it was possible to love someone so completely, or that one person could be everything that I've ever wanted, but never knew that I did. And I  _found_  you."

"L -"

"No, listen. I'm going to tell you something now that you're not going to like but you need to hear it. I hope that it helps you, because I want you to be ok and I don't see that happening the way you are now. You can't stay this way. I almost wish that I hadn't met you, because you're a mess, Light, and it hurts me to see what you're doing to yourself. You have everything but won't allow yourself the one thing that could make you happy, and I don't mean me, though I might have been a part of it. You're not a bad person, but you're hiding, and you'll lose yourself completely if you don't stop. It's too painful for you to be anything else than this thing you've created, I know. I understand, I do. For a long time I thought that you were only broken, but it's not that; you're just cold right through and you've made yourself that way. You've invented something that's not you, and one day you'll wake up and you'll wish that you were dead. It'll ruin you. You'll take everything with you before you burn up, and I don't want to see that happen. You're better than this. Don't fuck it up. Anyway, take it. That's for you."

He walks away from me with a smile on his face again. I don't understand how he can do that. "You can't go," I say, following him.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I can and I am. Email me if there are any problems with work, just don't call me, because I won't answer the phone to you, ok? I will not."

"What? Wait! I just... You would say something like that now, wouldn't you."

"I don't think anyone overheard, don't worry."

"I don't give a shit about that! You tell me that and I have no time. You're giving me no time because you're leaving."

"Yeah. I am. Take care of yourself, Light."

He gets in the car. It pulls out into the stream of traffic and all the cars which look just like it.

I miss my meeting.


End file.
